Tomb Raider: Lilith's Scepter
by Meldelen
Summary: After two years, Lara Croft has lost hope of ever seeing Kurtis Trent, who seems to have been swallowed by earth. But the disappearance of the Periapt and the Shards will force her to set out again...
1. Prologue

_Listen, my little one, because I'm going to tell you a story. _

_At the beginning of time, the gods descended to Earth and joined the daughters of mortals. From their union were born the first Nephilim, the Upper Race, to which you belong. For centuries they walked on the Earth, expelled from Paradise because of their illegitimate birth, and lived among mortals, passing on them their wisdom. But mortals were capricious and fickle, so tired of them, the Blessed founded a city in the land of Cappadocia to live, a city which they called Eden. _

_They struggled to survive for centuries, as the mortals considered them as deadly demons, and although their power was immense, they were finally defeated by an infamous mortal Order called the Lux Veritatis. Those damned pursued them relentlessly until almost eliminating them. The last Nephilim, whose mortal name was Joachim Karel, was perhaps the most illustrious of all them. He was your father, my child. With his prolific seed I fecundated my uterus so that a successor would avenge him and continue his great work. For he, who was immortal, was brutally murdered by the last of the Lux Veritatis, a cruel and disgusting man who treacherously killed him using the only weapon that could hurt him: the Periapt Shard. That man was named Kurtis Trent. _

_Kurtis Trent. You must remember that name. I have spent sleepless nights repeating his name silently to torment me and wishing with all my forces that the fates kept him alive. Praying that he lived to see him again... and kill him. Kill him by giving him so slow and excruciating death you can imagine, because he grabbed my only sense of life, the reason for my existence, the only being who I truly loved in this world. But at last it would be not me who will execute him. It will be you, angelic creature, Daughter of Heaven. _

_It will you, my child, to make fall that bastard on his knees, to crush and humiliate him, to makes him pay with his blood the shed blood of the Blessed one. And I'll behold from afar my revenge. And then no one will be stronger than us, and nobody will ever sink us. _

_May Kurtis Trent have one hundred and a thousand of deaths in a row, one after another one. _

_May I be present in every one of them. _

_And only then my anger will be abated, and justice will be done. _

_But Joachim, my beloved Joachim ... nobody will ever give him back to me. _

(…)

**Prologue **

- You are the cutest among creatures. – Giselle Boaz whispered to the ear of her daughter while combing gently her.

She looked in the mirror and it returned the reflection of her mother's face, full of pride and excitement. Then she looked at herself and saw nothing but a white and small face, intense eyes, dark hair framing her oval face and falling in waves on her tiny shoulders.

She appeared to be a seven-year-olded girl, but barely two months ago had she been born. If she could live with other children, she would already have realized how abnormal and impossible her brutal and precipitous growth was. But her mother kept her hidden from the world as one hides a treasure, and in her short time of life she did not know any person who was not her, Giselle, the angel-faced one.

Her mental development was still faster than the physical one and although she sensed that there was more world than that lonely farm in the countryside of Argentina and her diaphanous mother, she also had resigned to raise questions, as they often did not be answered.

- Mother, why we are always alone?

- We have one to each other. We do not need anyone else.

- But what about Father?

- You have no mortal father. You are pure as an angel and I conceived you without sin.

She barely understood what that meant. She pretended to be satisfied with the answers she gave to her, but that was not enough.

- You are _so_ beautiful, my child. - Giselle repeated, while stroking her hair.

In her green eyes - green as those of her daughter, green as those of her deceased sister - was a flash of indulgence. She turned to look herself in the mirror, but she saw nothing special in her tiny face.

(…)

After three days, a number of people arrived at the farm. She was excited: finally she was going to meet someone!

Unfortunately, everything she felt was disappointment when finding a trio of dark characters. One was a tall and stern man, with square jaw and thick mustache. The other man was short and bald, and the third was a toothless and horrible old lady, who covered her gray hair with a dark veil, as black as her dress.

- Who are them? – she stammered. Giselle ignored her and said:

- Be welcome. This is my daughter.

The newcomers looked with admiration at the tiny little person, and she realized that since they had entered they had not deigned themselves to give a single look at Giselle.

- For all that is holy, Boaz. - the bald man whispered -. This time you've overcome yourself.

- She resembles to your sister. - croaked the horrible old lady - Although she's much more beautiful. Really perfect. How have you achieved?

- Shut up, Gertrude! - the stern man snapped, and turning to Giselle, he said - You're crazy. It was a too risky experiment. Why on earth you used _yourself_ for...?

- What you wanted me to do, Schäffer? You fled from Moscow to full speed, you bunch of cowards. I was alone and if I had stayed in Europe they would have found me.

What were they talking about? The little girl looked at them in astonishment. Catching her glance, the old lady called Gertudre cut the discussion and said:

- Enough. We have come to fulfill the ritual. The sword is sharp and the altar ready.

Those words did not like her at all.

(…)

What she never would have suspected was that her mother could take part in _that_.

Giselle suddenly seemed tense, but allowed the man called Schäffer to grab her daughter and take her to a bedroom where Gertrude was fixing an altar covered with red velvet. She wondered from where they would have taken that.

Full of amazement, she got carried to the altar. The burly man stood up and sat on the altar. Then forced her to lie down. She was too stunned to resist.

- Mother! – she screamed, scared, turning to Giselle, but she did not move. She was pale and weak, and the bald man was holding her arm.

Gertrude began to recite a litany in a strange language that the girl did not know, but which seemed inexplicably familiar to her. Touching her clothing, the old woman opened the cloth and drew a long, sharp blade with a handle in gold. She saw her own terrified face reflected in the blade.

Finally she found the strength to rebel. With a cry of horror she struggled, but Schäffer held her tightly.

- Mother! Do not let them kill me! They'll kill me!

Gertrude bent over her body while her singing became louder and louder, and despite the pangs of the child, the sentence ended as she plunged the blade into her chest with an almost imperceptible gesture.

A scream rent the air. But it was not the little child who had shouted, but Giselle. Everything was on hold. Schäffer and Gertrude moved away from the altar in silence.

She barely had felt a brief flash of pain. She sat up on the altar, and tore the sword from her chest, throwing it to the ground. In doing so, a jet of white liquid flowed from the wound, but was gradually reducing itself and before the enraptured gaze of others, the wound was closed and remained intact.

Giselle meantime had regained her color. Everyone looked amazed, but the little one just wanted to scream. She wanted to say them that they were evil and reproach her mother had done nothing to defend her.

But she could not because all them fell on their knees at once, excited, and muttered:

- It's true! You're _that_! We revere you, Lady.

- What am I? - she said, and led a furious look at Giselle, who wept with emotion - Mother! I hate these people! Tell them to go!

But Giselle crawled on her knees to where she was, took her hands and kissed them with devotion, murmuring:

- My child! You're immortal! Do you hear me? Immortal!


	2. Chapter 1: Durga's Temple

**Chapter 1: Durga's Temple**

- Radha! Come here, shameless!

The girl, instead of obeying, ran away. She reached the jungle, on the edge of the forest, she stopped. She had never gone in there and it was likely that a cobra bite her or a tiger tore her apart in pieces, but even that seemed better to go back. There only was he. No, she won't go back again.

Stumbling over the ends of her _sari_, with jingling beads at the neck and wrists, she pushed through the vegetation. The thorns scrapped the beautiful fabric, but she did not stop. She did not stop until she was very, very deep in the jungle, and failed to return.

She looked around. Yes, she would die there. It was a good place as any. She had not heard of any women who were left to starve or devoured by wild beasts. Usually, the girls who had her fate threw themselves to the river, into a well or pyre where their dead husband was burning. But she, Radha, would die there.

She even decided to go a distance. It soon became clear, and to her surprise, there stood a temple. A derelict sanctuary! That would be the perfect place to die. She went and knelt on the steps leading to the entrance.

Hindu women were not allowed to enter the temples, so Radha bowed to touch the forehead to the ground and then looked at the relief of the door.

That temple was dedicated to Durga, goddess of vengeance, who was depicted riding on a tiger and wielding scimitars in her numerous arms. Radha clasped her hands and exclaimed:

- Mother Durga! If I really deserve it, give me peace and revenge for the insult I received. Be benevolent and come to me or will choose that death takes me.

Suddenly, she heard a sound inside the temple. Radha jumped up, terrified. When she thought it was a monkey or other animal, a human figure went out of the darkness and in two strides stood before her.

She was a woman. But she had never seen a woman like her.

Her skin and hair were clear, not like all women there, and she did not have clothes or _sari _as all peasants, but four little pieces of fabric quite adjusted to the body and high boots. She had strange set straps to the legs and carried a bundle on her back. She was tall and strong, but what intimidated Radha were her eyes, limpid and challenging, loaded with a fierceness and a more self-confidence usual of men or, in any case, of the upper castes.

She immediately thought that she was before a goddess and therefore fell at her feet and touched the tip of her boots, like all low-casted people should do with their superiors. But the goddess took two steps back.

- _Namasté_.- she murmured - I did not know there were any farmers around here. What village do you come from?

She spoke _hindi_ perfectly, but with a strange accent that she could not identify.

- From Kusuma Baradhji, lady. - she answered, without taking off her front of the ground.

- That is some way off. Are you lost?

- No, lady. I came here for a will.

- This temple had been abandoned for years. Why did you come here?

- To die, lady. – she said with dignity.

The goddess raised her eyebrows in surprise and then said:

- Why do you stay lying there?

- You are a goddess. You left the temple to hear my prayer. You're Durga coming to take revenge of my enemies!

She threw her head back and began to laugh. Radha allowed herself to look up and saw her carefully placing the burden on her shoulder and running her hand through her hair, which was pulled into a long braid.

- So Durga, huh? - she laughed - Durga has ten arms, wielding scimitars paths and is mounted on a tiger. I'm afraid I'm not as showy.

- You're Durga.- insisted the girl.- You have come from the temple.

- I was just visiting it. - answered the other with a twang of sarcasm.

- Women never enter the temple.

- Oh, so what am I? A monkey?

- You are a goddess, and so you live in the temple.

The goddess who refused to be that laughed again. Her eyes glowed in fun.

- Most people call me _Tomb Raider_, which in my native language means "grave robber". Some have called me _Amazonian_, which means warrioress. Almost all are devoted to drag my name through the mud, but I had never met someone who is bent on deify me. What is your name, little?

- Radha.

- As the wife of Krishna. You're the one who has the name of a goddess.

Assuming completion of the interview, the woman bent to pick up the burden. Then Radha said that she was hurt. A trickle of blood down her leg, an ugly cut in the upper thigh. Quickly she advanced and took the bundle, which was quite heavy, but she still swiftly carried it on her head.

- Allow me, lady. I'll take it.

She shrugged and pulled out a long knife, with which she began to break through the vegetation.

- Call me Lara. - she said.

(…)

It turned out that the goddess was said not to be so had her camp near. Seeing that place and the weapons she had, Radha began to wonder if perhaps Lara-Durga would be actually a _dacoit_, a bandit. There the girl placed the bundle and Lara began to untie it carefully. After several padded coats, it appeared a beautiful statue of Durga, very small, all made of ivory inlaid with precious stones.

- I was told to recover it. I thought maybe it had been stolen so long time ago, but fortunately I was wrong.

She put the statue in a box and sealed it. Then she hid in her tent and sat down to heal the wound.

- How could you hurt?

- A knife grazed me. I could have run out of a leg, but I guess I was lucky today.

She said that with the same insouciance and indifference as someone could speak about the weather. That shocked Radha, who had not heard of any temple with blades that hurt people.

- This one had. - muttered Lara - When a temple has something valuable inside, it defends itself against thieves.

The woman laughed sarcastically again, but Radha still didn't understand.

- Why did you seek death near Durga's Temple? – she asked then.

The girl frowned.

- I was fleeing from the _suttee_. My husband is dead and my mother-in-law wanted to burn me with him. But I didn't want to, so she was to have my head shaved and thrown me out into the street. I'd rather to starve in the jungle.

- From what caste are you? - Lara continued, as if that story had not touched her at all.

- I am an untouchable.

That was the tiny caste across India. They could not accept even a glass of water, and Radha and was quite impressed that a person who seemed to belong to a higher caste was exchanging words with her, or even looking directly at her.

- What is your caste? – she asked then.

- Oh, I'm from high society. - Lara replied, wincing. - A complete garbage.

That confused her still more. She began to believe she was crazy.

- How old are you, Radha?

- Fourteen.

Lara would have thought twenty. She looked like a woman, but she was just a child, a girl matured early with blows and hardships.

- You're coming with me. To England. - then the woman said.

- Me? But ...

- You don't have a chance. If you stay here you will die, and if you go back with your people they will kill you. And I am not so heartless as to leave you here... at least not yet. – she concluded with a smile.

Radha was on the verge of her feet, but she retained a sternly and said:

- Forget what little you may have learned here. From today I do _not_ want you crawling at the feet of anyone, least of me, do you understand?

- Yes, lady.

- Do not ever call me _that_! I am not the lady of no one. I'm Lara Croft, simply.

- Yes, lad... Lara.

The woman nodded, satisfied, and she just sold the thigh. Then she leaned back in her hammock and closed her eyes.

Radha came to the conclusion that, while not a goddess, this woman had come, in any case, in answer to her prayers.


	3. Chapter 2: Bathsheba

**Chapter 2: Bathsheba**

Meteora's valley was plunged into silence. It was winter and the cold was scraping the rocks. At the top of one of them, the snow-capped monastery of Ayios Stefanos stood majestic.

The abbot went to the entrance to contemplate the vastness of the valley and get off the snowflakes on his dark habit. But he froze when he saw another figure, dressed in black, sitting patiently at the edge of the precipice.

- Who are you and why you're here? – he asked.

A soft, warm voice answered from the depths of the hood.

- _Geiá sou, patéras_. I have come on pilgrimage from far and looking forward to finding rest.

The abbot frowned. The fact of living in celibacy did not stop him to recognize in that voice the timbre of a woman.

- You are mistaken, my dear. Ayios Stefanos is not a center of pilgrimage. We do not accept tourists or visitors, or women.

- You admitted one. - the voice _seemed_ to smile .- Two years ago, you opened the door for a woman. Where is Minos Axiotis?

The abbot was stunned. How could she know...?

- Our beloved father passed away three months ago in odor of sanctity. Now I'm the new abbot. My name is Nikos Kavafis. What is yours, child?

The figure stood up slowly and removed the cap that covered her face. Then the abbot felt a strange burning sensation in the center of his chest, because before his eyes appeared the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

- Bathsheba. - she replied, dropping her long lashes - My name is Bathsheba.

The abbot thought that it was the name of the temptress who had made fall King David into sin, so it did not bring good omens. But he was unable to leave at the entrance that beautiful creature in a night so cold and as tired as she seemed to be.

While driving her to a free cell he did not stop scrutinizing her angelic-looking face. Two years ago, they had accepted, in fact, Lara Croft. The British explorer was a beautiful and fascinating woman, whose sharp tongue and cheek head were too much for to the monks. But that was far exceeded by Bathsheba, who was so sensual and disturbing that in no way he would consent her to be seen by any of the brothers. Nikos was not as permissive as Minos was and he announced her that she would leave at dawn, without giving her time to talk. He closed the cell door locked and went to pray at the chapel, trying to calm the ardor that consumed him in the very sight of this woman.

But he could not concentrate. When trying to focus his gaze on the golden icon of the Virgin, her beatific face decayed and was replaced by the stunning image of Bathsheba's limpid green eyes and a very little Christian fragrance, the sweet aroma of lavender, wrapped him up on flooding his lungs.

(…)

The object of his desire still remained in the cell. She got up slowly from the bed and walked to the door. It had been a long time ago that the abbot's steps were gone by the broker.

She reached out the door and touched the doorknob. Indeed, the abbot had locked her, but that did not stop her. She touched the lock with the tip of her fingers and it melted like cheese as if it were hot. She opened the door and headed for the cloister. The dark hair waved around and over her back. No need to cover, and since she didn't feared to be discovered. As much as someone looking in her direction would not see her, because now she was ethereal and transparent as the air.

She descended into the darkness of the crypt without being accompanied by any light. The darkness was her ally. She walked the aisles filled with old skulls without scaring herself by the presence of those who watched at her with empty sockets everywhere.

Angels' Oracle was silent and dusty. No one had come there since the Amazonian invoked the celestials. But it was not dark, since the faint blue glow of the Periapt stained with silver tone the vaulted fresco ranked by the severe archangel.

Bathsheba slightly touched the Periapt. For a moment she felt a fury indescribable towards the Amazonian, to _that_ Lara Croft, who not being more than an ordinary mortal-mill, on the designs of fate she had been worthy of talking with the angels. And she, she who was born of the same seed of an angel, she could not talk to those who were her equals!

She bit her lower lip, but then forced herself to calm down. She had come for the Periapt. She took in her hands, wrapped it in a fold of her dress and hurried.

- Stop!

Bathsheba turned sharply. With the change she had experienced, transparency had dissolved and was clearly visible in the eyes of an angry Nikos, who cut her way off.

- How dare you, daughter of Satan, to steal this precious relic? For this you were coming! Give it back because it doesn't belong to you.

He held out her arms towards the Periapt but Bathsheba calmly went away. But Nikos was still young and strong, and out of himself, violently grabbed the woman. He almost experienced a surge of satisfaction at seeing her lips half-open in surprise because of his brutality. Strange scents enveloped him and almost make him to lose his head, forgetting that he was a monk, and torn between the rage that made him the theft of the Periapt and the powerful attraction he felt towards her.

- Let me go. – she ordered, her voice soft but firm.

The abbot, out of himself, grabbed the scrap of fabric where she had the Periapt and brutally torn it, not knowing if what he wanted to see was the precious crystalline object or her young skin.

She reacted by uttering a strange word. Suddenly, Nikos left a heartbreaking scream that reverberated around the monastery. Almost all the monks jumped from their beds. The first one that came into the yard found a gruesome sight.

Nikos writhed on the floor at the foot of a woman, throwing up bile by the mouth, screaming in a language that nobody could understand but froze their blood. The woman, tall and with an overwhelming beauty, was holding the Periapt with her hand and her long dress was slightly torn.

They did not dare to cross the threshold; since her frozen green eyes scared them and felt flooded with a strange scent of lavender floating in the air. But they could not smell flowers... it was winter.

Then she spoke in a voice so sweet and magical that dulled their senses:

- He has just received the punishment for his lust. He won't die, but only one man can now heal your abbot. You know him. He had been here and was the one who killed my father. Tell him that his struggle is not over.

She turned and slowly walked away and disappeared among the columns, holding the Periapt carefully. No one could move until they lost her sight completely.

(…)

Now that European police finally had stopped looking for her, Giselle could finally return to the Old World. And since the foundation of Prague and Munich had been dismantled and closed, the few remains of the Cabal were now installed on the sole ground that had not been located: Moscow's.

There were so few members left... the old Gertrude, the priestess who had been intimate of Eckhardt in her youth, and rejected by him as she went aged; Adolf Schäffer, ex-mercenary of Gunderson, one of the few survivors of the Munich disaster who now had taken the lead and assembled a new team of assassins; the bald man, Hugh, who served as a spy.

They were the leaders, with a few dozen supporters. Yes, there were very few in comparison to what they had been under the aegis of Eckhardt, but they now had Bathsheba, their Lady (the name "Mistress" had been dismissed as unsuitable for such a beautiful creature).

The other Cabalistic found it hard to believe that Giselle had been able to create something so beautiful from her own genetic material mixed with a sample taken from Karel, from her own experiments. Nobody would say that an embryo like that could get ahead, and nobody would have been as foolhardy as Giselle to implement it in her own uterus. Who said the result could not have been an abominable monster as her sister Kristina's Proto-Nephilim?

But not. Bathsheba was the opposite. In two years she had become a perfect looking woman with even better intelligence. Together with Giselle, they seemed sisters more than mother and daughter. Giselle had always been a beautiful woman but the beauty of her daughter darkened hers. However, that filled her with pride and, like the rest of the Cabal members; she could not stop staring at her adoringly. She knew his daughter, more innocent than she seemed, involuntarily aroused brutal sexual instinct in men, but fortunately she had her own ways to protect herself from any aggression.

And she, Giselle, was the creator of this marvel, of that Nephilim more perfect than any thoroughbred angel!

_Ah, if Karel could have seen you...!_

If Karel could have seen her, he would not have wasted his time looking for a chimerical prophecy. She, and not the Amazonian, was to be the mother of the Upper Race.


	4. Chapter 3: Memories in the distance

**Chapter 3: Memories in the distance**

The British Museum was full of life and activity. However, it was not time of visits because it was more than ten at night. That night the museum held an academic conference that was to attend the most prestigious figures of archeology and all sorts of historians. And for a good reason: Lara Croft had returned from India with the statue of Durga, and far from appropriating it for herself, as rumored evil tongues, she had kept her promise to donate it to the museum.

Everything was ready for the event. One of the rooms had been enabled with a platform and a pulpit with microphone, in front of several rows of seats occupied by various celebrities who whispered one to each other.

The whispers stopped as soon as the director of the British mounted the pulpit and turned on the microphone.

- Good night. – he said as startup mode - As you know today we're gathered here to witness one of the greatest donations to our museum in recent years. The statue of Durga was lost during years and many people assumed that it was a nonexistent treasure. Now we have it here, but it's not going to be me who will talk about this historical jewel. Ladies and gentlemen, with all of you: Lady Lara Croft, Duchess of Saint Bridget.

There was a round of applause.

_Damn it_, thought Lara as she climbed on stage with her most charming smile. She hated with all her forces to be called by her title, which sounded pompous and bombastic, lacking of any personality. But it was a necessary evil which she was forced to use in those high places, as the British aristocracy tolerated no commoners among their ranks.

When she got to the microphone, a horde of flashes almost blinded her. She heard rumors and whispers and knew that she was being analyzed in detail.

- Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. – she said cheerfully, still smiling, showing off her impeccable oratory - I am delighted to be here tonight.

She threw a kind look, thinking, _I hope you like what you see, bunch of picky assholes_.

The truth is that her appearance was captivating. Nobody knew for sure how old she was, but everyone agreed that she was touching the forties. However, Lara seemed almost ten years younger, tall, beautiful, slim and lovely. That night she wore a blood red evening gown and her hair was piled on top of the head, with two small wavy tresses framing her face.

Lara was loved by many and hated by many others. The UK's single aristocrats were still sticking to achieve a minimum capture of her attention and it was said she received thousands of daily marriage proposals from around the world. She always rejected them all. Some paired her with that serious and mysterious man, who had been with her two years ago, during a trial for the murder of Werner Von Croy, which she had been charged with. But she had not been seen with him anymore and she kept silent about that as with all personal aspects of her life.

- Well - she continued - as Jack the Ripper said, we'll go on parts.

There were some chuckles and many others were shocked. Delighted with the fuss that was armed with that comment, Lara made a sign to a couple of workers who were ready to place an urn covered with a velvet curtain at her side. She approached and, removing the cloth, she discovered the beautiful statue, making for a moment all went silent.

- Prohibited from now flash photography. -she sternly warned .- It could damage the statue.

"This is one of the most beautiful pieces of India. According to ancient Sanskrit texts, this statue of Durga, goddess of war and revenge, was from one of the temples of Khajuraho, built by Chandella dynasty between 950 BC and 1050 AD. But the statue was stolen, probably by bandits, worshipers of the goddess and hidden in a lost temple somewhere beyond Lucknow. I studied some maps and came to the conclusion that the temple should be there yet, because it was a place where no one except the bandits would have dared to approach. I found the temple, and hidden in a false room, the statue. "

If that fussy public expected some rough details about the dangers to which she had faced, about potential enemies or traps that might have harbored that place, they were left with the desire, as Lara moved quickly to examine the statue.

- As you can see – she said presenting it with a broad movement of the hand - the fact that its value is incalculable is something obvious. The goddess is entirely carved out of pure ivory, opaque due to their age, while the tiger which she rides on which is carved in mother of pearl. So these are two assembled parts. The tiger's eyes are rubies and emeralds the ones of the goddess. The exquisite filigree in which are carved the clothes and trappings of Durga is dotted with small sapphires. The arms of the goddess seemed to have broken down and reassembled with great success. Each scimitar-wielding is forged in gold. In fact, it's a jewel of Indian art.

After a murmur of approval, a new round of applause and a warm handshake by the satisfied British's director, Lara prepared to leave the stage, but then she heard a voice saying:

- What could you tell us about that little girl you've brought from India? Is she adopted?

Lara frowned. Of course, it was a journalist of the gossip press.

- She's called Radha Deli, and she is not an adoption.

- Why then you brought her? She would not be claimed by anyone?

- In India she had achieved the status of a woman; and she's a widow, so that nobody will be interested in her.

There were pleased murmurs. Lord Croft's daughter did not know what to do to get attention. Now she dedicated to rescuing Hindu widows from their doom!

- Some mouths had said she's your daughter, born because of your previous trips to India. Is that true?

- Some mouths like yours, right? - Lara snapped, quite dry – According to _this_ kind of mouth, Mr. Nobody, I have more than twenty children scattered throughout the world, as many abandoned lovers.

- But then...?

- Another insolent question like that, and I will take no longer than five minutes to find out who you are and whom you work for. And once I know, you won't work as a journalist by the rest of your life.

The cold, sharp tone of the voice of Lara silenced every murmur. The unfortunate journalist raised, red as scarlet, and left the room muttering incoherent excuses. The tension in the atmosphere was dissipated when the director immediately adjourned, and then people moved to another room to dwell with a dance. Lara, though she was an excellent dancer, politely declined all offers by hopeful men and went to one of the balconies to breathe and get rid of some of that stifling aristocratic atmosphere which pursued her everywhere.

Selma Al-Jazeera was leaning against the railing. Lara leaned next to her.

The Turkish archaeologist had changed a lot during those two years. She was a pretty girl, with bronzed skin and dark eyes and hair, like most of Turks, and she had become more cheerful and active, but the veil of sadness that clouded her eyes did not withdraw at all. The loss of her beloved ones and her work in Cappadocia was still a shame that corroded her inside.

- You've been wonderful. - she said with a twinkle in her sweet black eyes - I love when you put those rabble in their place.

- Bah! - Lara said, making a fuss - You know how those people are. They look at me drooling but deep down they're thinking: _Here goes that whore of Lara Croft! She lives like a thug while her family dies of shame. _

- That's not true - protested Selma, who loved Lara. - So what if it was? You're better than all of them together with their titles and their shields. But let's leave this. You will tell to me where you got that little girl.

Lara thought for a moment.

- I do not know why I took her. I came across her and she was willing to let herself die. The Hindus are like that, they say it as if was a joke but if you lose sight of those, they soon are already dead. I guess if I had left her, she would now be dead or would have be found by her people, who would have given her a bad death.

- Poor creature! - lamented Selma - Sometimes I think I'm very lucky.

Lara looked at the moon, absent. She thought to entrust Radha's custody to some institution, because she did not see the possibility of taking care of her, and she barely heard what Selma said about the treatment of women in different parts of the world. After a while, however, these words get her out of her reverie:

- Have you seen him?

- Huh? Who?

- Do not play dumb. You know. _Him._

Selma exhibited a mischievous smile. The Turkish was a hopeless romantic and she enjoyed trying to coax Lara what she meant to hide.

- No. I have not heard anything. – she replied, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.

- It's been two years, Lara. Two years! It seems yesterday when the monks of Meteora brought him to me, wounded and burning with fever. What has become of him?

- I do not know. I have not even asked myself about that. - lied Lara, who would have preferred to be slapped before recognizing that she hadn't spent a single day without thinking of him, and sometimes even dreaming with his mischievous smile and his piercing blue eyes. – He most likely has forgotten about me. He had too many problems and concerns.

She shrugged, as if it didn't matter to her, then she turned and left the balcony. She did not want to talk about him. Selma's last words came to her mixed with the rhythm of a waltz:

- I do not think so!

(…)

Marie Cornel went to the courtyard and shaded her eyes with one hand. The blazing sun of Mexico fell without mercy on the dark and leathery skin of the Indian.

Marie was close to sixty, but nobody would have said that she was an old woman. The long hair which in her youth was black as a raven's wing was now dotted with silver strands, but her body was still slim and firm, because of having spent most of her life fleeing for save both her and her child's life in a tireless pursuit.

A hard way, based on suffering, continuous risk and fears, with nothing but her own instinct inherited from her Navajo tribe, Marie Cornel, wife of a Lux Veritatis and mother of a Lux Veritatis, had survived when the War of the Shadows had swept away the entire Order and their families. And she had survived because she was the only with the courage to separate from the man she loved, hoping to give her child a chance for survive. Others were afraid, remained with their people... and died with them.

Not Marie. She fled and continued to run away, as her child grew up and became strong in the same way she had learned to harden not to succumb to pain and despair.

She sighed and shook her head to ward off dire thoughts. She should not feel sorry for herself; since she was the lucky one, and not those who had died.

- What do you see, Kurtis? – she murmured with a smile.

In the center of the courtyard was a man in his thirties, crouched next to a motorcycle, dirty with motor oil and a wrench on his hand. Upon hearing the familiar question, all a slogan for him, he turned to Marie and growled:

- I see a damn engine annoying me.

She laughed and sat on the top step of the porch, playing with the dreamcatcher hanging from her neck.

- I do not know what interest produces in you this infernal machine... it does not give you nothing but trouble.

- Black horses are no longer used to move, so I have to make do with it. - he replied sarcastically, getting up and wiping the dirt in her pants.

Two years ago he had returned and released Marie from her long captivity, not as real as a psychic captivity, an obsessive idea to run and hide from an enemy that no longer existed, that would not pursue her to kill her anymore. Then Marie discovered she had become accustomed to living hide, mixed with people of her tribe in an unpleasant reserve. Reintegrating into the world had been difficult for her and somehow she was still a lonely soul, so lonely and closed to the outside as her son was. In those two years Marie had established herself at a _rancho_ in Mexico and was engaged in cattle breeding and being a healer and midwife for the locals, who respected her and gave her their affection. Kurtis visited her at times but never stayed long with her. Marie never spoke of him to anyone and for the rest of the world it was like he never existed. There was no physical resemblance between mother and son and therefore nobody could relate them. He truly resembled to his father.

- When will end this, Kurtis? – she sighed, again discouraged – In two years you had not been in peace. Did you seriously plan to kill all the devils of the world? Even by living a hundred of lives you would never succeed. When you'll rest?

- When I'll be dead and buried. – that was his dry response.

Marie got up and approached him. He was again concentrated in the motor.

- I've had enough by losing your father, and I did not even have a body to bury. – she said with a steady voice – I did _not_ fought for years to protect you from the Cabal so that you can now spoil your life in a struggle that has no end. The debt to your father is more than paid off; you killed his murderer and ended with the Cabal. That should suffice.

Kurtis did not respond, and Marie knew that she won't be able to make him talk. He had always been frugal to talk and when he insisted on not doing it, he was like a brick wall.

- Where are you going this time? – she tried again.

- To New York. The press reported to have seen strange creatures in the sewers and some petrified corpses have been found.

- Basilisks? - she suggested.

Kurtis shook his head.

- The basilisks would not leave the sewers to hunt, even at night. The attacks have been deliberated. I think this is a Gorgon.

- A Gorgon! - Marie gasped - It's too dangerous!

- If I do not find her myself before others will, it will be a disaster. Also, you know I have dealt with worse things. Well – he happily announced, rising and dropping the wrench - this is ready. Let's not wait any longer for that damned Gorgon.

He put his arms into a barrel of water and began to wash his face.

- Did you know? Lara Croft has appeared on television today.

If Marie expected some reaction from her son, she was disappointed. Kurtis followed by washing himself as if he had heard nothing.

- She seems to have returned from her travels with a statue. They did a story about the recent donation to the British Museum. She is a truly extraordinary woman. The prophecy of the Amazonian had only been referring to her, since it was amazing how...

Kurtis turned slowly. He wore a grin on his face halfway between disgust and sarcasm.

- Please, _mother_. – he said, emphasizing the last word - Tell me where you want to get or I'll die of intrigue. And it would be a shame after all to what I have survived.

Marie sighed. How well he knew her.

- You're like your father. He might have had as much women as he wanted, but he only loved one. And even if you're not an expert in giving details, I know that you still remember her. I do not know how you could...

She hesitated.

- Let her escape? - Kurtis finished the sentence.

She said nothing. She had noticed in his voice a dangerous tone.

- I can not believe you're telling me that at this point. - he said. – You, who abandoned my father for saving my life, and whom you did not see again in years.

- I did it because the Cabal was attacking beloved people to torment the Order's members, as you well know! I had to leave him to avoid them hurting him through us. But I never, _never_ stopped loving him.

- Well, for that reason I wanted to get Lara away from this. I will _not_ ever have peace, you know. - Marie lowered her head when he said that. - She had already done too much for us. She did not deserve to live what I'm living every day.

- So I ask you to leave this way of life.

He shook his head, smiling bitterly.

- I already tried that, remember? The Legion. And yet there _they_ came for me and you know I'm _not_ talking about the Cabal. They won't leave me until I die.

And throwing the rag he had been using for drying his wet hair, he went inside, closing the door in a bang.


	5. Chapter 4: The Periapt Shard

**Chapter 4: The Periapt Shard**

Winston quietly passed the cloth along the dusty shelf and glanced towards the window. Lara was out footing around the green hills of Surrey. It was an appropriate time for the butler to quench his curiosity.

He touched the thick tomes of History until he found a tiny portfolio. He pulled it out and settled into a chair behind near while he began observing with delight those sketches.

That old Irish man had taken care of Lara since she was a child, but only when he widowed he had gone to live with her, to look after her property when she was absent on long trips. Those who believed that Jeeves Winston was just a butler for Lara Croft were wrong.

Although in their daily treatment it could not be appreciated more than a formal relationship between the steward and the mistress of the house, only intimate people knew that the old man had been a father for Lara when Lord Henshingly had expelled her from home. And Lara had the greatest affection for Winston, guardian of her house, yes, but also scolding father and friend who never failed to her.

So Winston was reviewing those sketches was with genuine affection. Some depicted horrifying creatures that fascinated him despite their appearance. He acknowledged each of them, because between Lara and Winston were no secrets... at least in that aspect. However, the butler has a predilection for those drawings in which Lara appeared, in different poses, smiling, scowling, defiant, and surprised. He touched those silent offerings of love which conveyed more than words.

But the man who had drawn those sketches disappeared two years ago and his memory weighed like lead in those silent rooms. His name was not pronounced, nor was he alluded to, not because it was expressly forbidden, but because his mere memory clouded the eyes of Lara with a veil of sadness and anger. Therefore, Winston took advantage of the explorer's absences to look at the pictures.

He patted the corner of a sketch where Lara was lying on a bed and dressed in a sort of black habit, and he could not but smile to see how the artist managed to capture so well the face of Lara as he had only seen her for years : asleep.

- Winston! What are you doing?

The old man jumped up and scattered the drawings on the floor. On the door was Lara, dressed in tracksuits and soaked in sweat, staring at him with surprised expression.

How long had been him looking at the sketches? He did not know. Blushing over his ears and muttering unintelligible excuses, Winston rushed to collect the sheets.

- No, do not lean. I'll do it. - she said, and immediately picked up the drawings, giving them a brief look at she picked them. And again there was that shadow of sadness on her irritated eyes.

- I'm sorry. - Winston muttered, but she did not answer. She handed the portfolio and turned, leaving the room with rigidity.

The butler, cursing himself for having her disturbed, followed her by fits and starts and said:

- By the way, miss, tonight is the gala dinner of the archaeologists who work in the exhibition.

Lara was stopped at the threshold of her room, and said with obvious annoyance:

- Wow. I had forgotten about that. Selma must be called and…

- Miss Al-Jazeera has been duly informed by me, miss.

- Thanks, Winston. By the way, what dress you advise to me? The long red one or the black one with cut on the hips?

- You already used the red for the presentation on the British. People would say that you have no more dresses.

She laughed.

- Seriously, I do not know what to do without you. Lately, I'm quite lost.

She went into the bathroom to have a shower, but Winston did not withdraw from the room, although he sat away from the bathroom door to respect her privacy.

- There is something I wanted to say, miss.

- Tell me. - she said as she stripped from her tracksuit.

- I've been thinking a lot, miss, and I concluded that I am too old and I'm very tired.

- Don't tell me more. - Lara said, poking her head - I was afraid of that. You want to go back to Ireland, no? If it's about being back to your homeland...

- No, miss. - he smiled - Sometimes I miss my country but I really don't want to leave this place. I will only return when I'll be buried along with my dear wife, who has long been waiting for me.

- So? - Lara had got under the shower.

- Miss, I am already very old and I will not live forever. I feel my end is very near.

- Winston! You're putting in a fatalistic mode!

She said that with affectionate irony, though she knew he was telling the truth.

- I'm eighty-three years old, miss. And I keep thinking that when I'll be dead you'll be left completely alone.

The shower faucet was closed and Lara came out with a bathrobe and head wrapped in a towel. She smiled.

- My dear octogenarian, I do not know where you want to go.

- What I mean, miss - he hesitated - is that maybe you should marry.

Lara looked at him, stunned and speechless. Then she regained speech and said:

- Oh, no, Winston! You too!

- You know I do not mean that in the sense his father the lord said this. Nor as the gossip meant to say.

- But the meaning is the same! Winston, please, telling me _that _at this point ... – her wet hair came loose and she began to brush it - You know I'm not that kind of woman!

- Well then, have a child.

Lara froze again with the brush held up, and looked at the butler as if she was contemplating a monster.

- Did you remember to take your medication?

- Yes, miss. - he said humbly.

- Well then, this is serious! Who has put such nonsense into your head? Please! Do you throw a good look at me, Winston?

_Of course I have seen thee well, my child_, thought the old man, _I've spent years looking at you, since you were very small, and keeping your image to my eternity._

- Miss, you already have forty years...

- Thirty-nine! - Lara shouted, shocked.

- Well, thirty-nine. – Winston's tone remained solemn – So you should start thinking about what to do with the rest of your life. I will die soon and you have friends but nobody to accompany you and make you happy. Think again. There must be a man you may love. And if you don't want to tie yourself to a man, at least have a child. At the time you may believe you're eternal and independent, but it's very sad to become old and die without anyone by your side. I leave you, then, with your conscience.

Having said this he rose and with a solemn nod he left the room and closed the door.

Lara shook her head, too shocked to say anymore. She approached the mirror and continued combing, but soon she left the brush and examined her face in the mirror, looking for any signs of aging, a wrinkle, a gray hair, whatever. But the woman who stared back at her was still young, with firm and smooth skin, equally bright hair, eyes sparkling with life. There was no flaw or a sign of old age.

Instinctively she opened the towel and dropped it down to see her naked body. Everything was as usual, her strong and muscular legs, narrow waist, flat stomach, perky breasts and proud shoulders. For Lara Croft the years were not passing, as if her life had stood still in the prime of life to perpetuate her youth forever.

- It's in my mind where I see signs of aging. – she said to her reflection - I'm tired and I have a head full of intrigues and warps.

She sighed and began to wear the black suit. She knew that deep down, her old butler was right. And she was so tired ... but her body was still young and energetic, ready to go ahead as usual.

(…)

The Exhibition of Archaeology was actually a series of lectures about recent discoveries that was given over that week and were closed that night with a gala dinner. Lara did attend them not because she liked the pump but because it was a unique opportunity to reconnect with old friends who used to walk scattered around the whole world. So, Lara was greeting with multiple languages to different personalities from the world of archeology, followed at a safe distance by Selma, who was also much needed and welcomed by her work in the Middle East.

- Well, Lara, I won't know what to do if you continue putting yourself so pretty!

Who had spoken was no one other than Charles Kane, who came to her and kissed her fraternally.

- What are you doing here? - Lara said - I thought you hated social events.

- You hate them too and here you are. - he guffawed - How are things going? I guess you're as stubborn as ever. I have been told about that Indian girl. Seriously, what _on earth_ were you thinking about?

- Stop bothering me! - she laughed - You would have done the same.

- You're senile, Lara! I see now in you an unknown maternal vein... maybe I'll see you soon working on missions with the Sisters of Charity...

- Come on, shut up and get me a glass of champagne.

Charles made a mocking bow and went in search of the waiter. Lara looked around distractedly. And then she saw the woman.

She was not more than twenty-four, more or less the age of Selma. She was standing across the crowded room and was wearing a silvery dress that framed her graceful, sinuous shape. Beside those arms and legs so smoothly stylized, those small breasts, the very Lara seemed much more robust and muscular. Her skin was so white it seemed transparent her veins and her hair, tied otherwise in a bun, was so black that it emitted a bluish tone. The nose was straight and her lips pink. However, she seemed not to have them painted because she did not left a trace in the cup from she drank in small sips.

But what bothered Lara was not the failure to find even the slightest imperfection in that beauty. What bothered her was that she didn't stop looking at her constantly with her green eyes, shining with a coolness that was strangely familiar to her.

- Take that. - Charles said, putting a glass in her hand - What's wrong? One would think you saw a ghost.

- That woman! - Lara whispered, and took the cup to her lips as she turned quietly to the window.

Although the hall was crowded with appropriately decorated women, Charles did not need any indication to find her. And then she saw a strange change in the man's face.

- God! – he gasped, breathless - I had never seen a woman like that!

Lara coughed uncomfortably.

- Yes, she's very attractive.

- Attractive is _not_ the word. Oh, sorry, I'm behaving like a cad. Let's say you yourself are so beautiful that you hardly see the beauty elsewhere.

- Don't try to fix it now. I did not mean she's pretty. I meant that she doesn't stop looking at me.

- Well, now that you mention it... yes. I don't know why. Maybe she's jealous. The poor girl is not very gifted in bra size.

Lara looked at him speechless. That was _not_ usual in him.

- Charles, stop talking nonsense. I don't like how she looks at me. What does she want?

She was irritated by her friend's attitude, who was speaking to her but he simply could _not_ take his eyes away from the other girl, sweating profusely. He seemed completely mesmerized.

- You'll have the chance to find out that, Lara. She's coming here.

She turned and, in fact, that beauty was approaching with a gentle swaying of hips. The chill was gone and she now displayed a sweet smile, exposing a series of small pearly white teeth.

- Miss Croft? – she said with a beautiful _alto_ voice.

- The same one. - Lara replied, suddenly enveloped in a mysterious scent of lavender. She glanced at Charles, but he looked at the woman completely absorbed and enthralled with a strange expression on his face...

What the hell happened with him?

- What an honor to meet you! - exclaimed the other with hardly raising her voice, and shook her hand warmly. The touch was warm and soft, like _everything_ in that woman.

She was perfect. Too much perfect. And it was a matter of seconds to figure out that virtually all the men in the room looked at her with the same fool's face as Charles.

- Who do I have the honor to know? - Lara said, barely letting go her hand.

- Excuse my rudeness. My name is Bathsheba.

Of course, someone _so_ perfect could have only one name out of the ordinary and so thought Lara.

- Oh, it was a whim of my mother. - she smiled .- Bathsheba is an ancient Hebrew name and means "the desired one". Bathsheba, according to the biblical Book of Kings, was the wife of Uriah, a lieutenant of King David. The king fell in love with her because of her beauty after seeing her bathing, and therefore he ordered that she must be immediately delivered to him...

- I know _exactly_ who the Hebrew Bathsheba was, thanks. - Lara cut, offended. Who had thought she was, that presumptuous?

Bathsheba dropped her thick eyelashes.

- You're right. It's not my place to tell Lara Croft what any historian or archaeologist should know, of course?

She seemed to have read _her_ mind, and that made Lara feel even more uncomfortable. She put her glass to his lips and threw a furtive glance at her interlocutor. Up close she was even more beautiful, like a Renaissance _Madonna_. Any kind of jewelry or makeup would have marred her, and therefore she exhibited a completely clean skin. And whence came that fresh aroma of lavender that began to dizzy her?

- I had not heard from you. – she said then - And yet you must have some relevance when you have been invited to this dinner, unless you're a chaperone.

She had just returned the insult. The so-called "chaperones" were luxury prostitutes hired to serve as accompanying in social events. They were invited to parties to serve as ornamentation, noted for their beauty and no less by their obvious ignorance, as many women who were there.

However, if Bathsheba took the hint, of course she showed no offense, as she exhibited a diaphanous smile while saying:

- Oh, no! I come from a family business dedicated to deal with artwork. Now I continue the work of my father. I must say I am a big fan of your work and I have auctioned some of your findings...

Lara looked back at Charles while the beautiful unleashed her flattery. The man breathed as if he was gasping for air and looking at her with a face full of complete idiocy. Lara put her hand on her temple, stunned by the sweet scent given off by the other.

- ... and it is precisely for this reason I come to make you a proposal.

Lara set new attention on her interlocutor.

- And what could an art dealer want from me?

- I am interested in purchasing one of your artifacts.

This was not a strange proposal. Thousands of people proposed to her that often, although she did not normally sell. She used to hold the dangerous or controversial artifacts in her house, such as the Iris or a T-Rex head, which in the wrong hands could create problems and therefore she protected them under a rudimentary but ingenious security system, not easily accessible even for her. Instead, concerning harmless artifacts as Durga's statue itself, she did not hesitate in donating them or put them on sale.

- And in what device are you interested?

Bathsheba became pensive.

- Let's see... its exact name is unknown to me but I no doubt you are the owner... it is a dagger, a sort of very steely blade…

- I'm sorry - Lara was quick to interrupt - but the Dagger of Xian is not for sale and never will be, as I stated publicly when I brought it from China some years ago.

The beautiful laughed quietly.

- Oh, but I don't mean the Dagger! I would not even dream to reclaim that jewel, especially since you made it clear you would not sell it after being so difficult to recover it for you.

- I have no other device that can even resemble a knife.

- But, miss Croft, I am surprised! Did you get rid of it? I refer to a device certainly less valuable than the Dagger, but also exquisite. As I said, it is a steely knife cut completely in some sort of glass, curve shaped with a face carved into the handle...

She stopped talking when the sharp eyes of Lara pierced her. The explored reddened as if she had been slapped, abruptly handed the cup to the stunned Charles (who almost threw it) and gripping the arm of Bathsheba, dragged her almost to the balcony.

- But ... miss Croft! - she said, confused, drifting without resistance.

Lara confronted her and approached her face to her so near that the other could feel her breath.

- Let's face it. – she muttered – You can't fool me with your Victorian manners. Do you _really_ think I'm stupid?

- Miss Croft! – she exclaimed, scandalized.

- The artifact that you mentioned has not been made public. In any case, selling it to people like _you_ is the last thing I'll do in this world. So I will see myself forced to suggest you forget about the subject.

- But...

- _But_ you can't prove the existence of this knife. You better shut up your mouth because I will not sell it. You'll better not insist in that if you don't want to regret.

Bathsheba looked at her with wide eyes, more surprised than frightened, and that was _a lot_ of courage on her part, since most people became terrified when Lara spoke in that tone to the very face. Turning round, the explorer left the balcony.

The beautiful lady remained a moment motionless. Then, she outlined an ambiguous smile and whispered as she turned to a ring on her finger:

- I'm afraid; miss Croft, that I'm _not_ willing to content you.

(…)

- I want to know _immediately_ the truth!

In a rage, Lara was spinning around the room on the Surrey Manor, while Selma and Charles, sitting in armchairs, looked at her dumbfounded.

The Turkish girl pursed her lips and said:

- It's true. I said nothing about that.

- Someone must have spilled the beans! Unless someone have come to steal me or have my inventory of goods checked, and I assure you that is not exposed to the public, it is impossible she could have heard about it!

- Well, I _certainly_ didn't speak about that. - Selma said again, offended. - I'm not the only one who knows the existence of the Shard. Jean also know, and Vlad, Winston, now Charles... and Kurtis.

Lara stopped when she heard that last name, or so it seemed to Charles.

- Jean never goes out of Egypt and he just talk to anyone other than his operators. It must have been that babbler of Ivanoff...

- And what about this guy, Kurtis? - Charles asked, but he received no response. Selma was who said:

- Nothing is known of him. Anyway, it's a man whom would be easier to rip his soul than to make him tell something he wants to keep secret.

- God. - murmured Charles – You've intrigued me.

A flash of irritation crossed Lara's eyes, as always she heard about Kurtis, but she kept the cold face and pretended not having heard anything.

- Winston! – she exclaimed.

The butler appeared at the moment (he had a bad habit of listening at doors, as she well knew) and was quick to guess:

- Miss, I assure you I have nothing to do with...

- Old fool! Have I ever doubted about you? What I wanted to tell you it to put me in contact with Ivanoff soon.

The old man smiled and left the room.

Charles turned to Lara and said:

- Well, what I don't understand here is why you're so angry, woman.

Selma was quick to intervene:

- Two years ago, a man named _Kurtis Trent_ – she emphasized either his name as she launched a bitter look to Lara - had three very valuable daggers known as the Periapt Shards. But he risks death as ever in his way of life, so he chose three people he trusted and gave them each a Shard, to avoid they fall into the wrong hands. To the three Shards keepers he made us swear not to tell anyone about them. Lara and I were chosen, and as the third person...

- His mother. He handed the third Shard to his mother. - Lara said, calmer now.

Charles nodded.

- And if that woman has offered to buy your Shard is because someone has spilled the beans.

- Yes, but in fact there is much more. - continued Lara - We may be in danger because we neither know who this woman is nor whom she works for. Nobody is interested in a simple glass carved knife. She wants something more.

- Don't tell me. - Charles said, mocking – It has magical powers, right?

Lara smiled wryly.

- Maybe.


	6. Chapter 5: The Gorgon

**Chapter 5: The Gorgon**

Zip yawned, full of boredom, took off his headphones and dropped them on the keyboard of his laptop, while stretching ominously.

It was shortly past midnight, and the hacker was in the sewers of that New York's department building making some mischief.

Since he had been fired from the VCI, the Afro-American boy -only known for his code name- had been dedicated to serving small computer revenges in exchange for money. That night, a colleague had paid him to disrupt that company's database, responsible for the monopoly that had sunk his own business.

For Zip was a piece of cake to get the password and introduce a deadly virus developed by himself, which he had named _Leviathan_. Now he could pick up his material and escape happily. Tomorrow morning, all employees would find a comical screen message that would announce them all their database files and accounting records had passed away.

_Too easy_, he thought with contempt, and began to collect his material.

He undid the path taken by the dark sewer. However, he had not gone more than twenty yards when he stopped at seeing the distant glimpse of a flashlight beam.

_Shit!_, he thought, and immediately extinguished the small LED light that served him as a guide. _How is it possible that someone can be there?_

But whoever he was, he did not move, standing still. In the end, tired of waiting, Zip approached quietly and considered that could be a trap. The more he approached, the more he realized that something was really wrong. The beam became more and more intense, but not moved an inch. Neither the person who held it.

Zip almost jumped back to see it was a policeman. But he was not moving. Feeling increasingly confused, he stood at his side. And when he looked at him closely, a chill went down on his spine.

The man's face was frozen in a hideous _rictus_. His eyes were bulging, his jaw dislocated, his mouth open in a scream that had failed to occur. And the whole body was just as rigid.

- Hey! - Zip nervously shouted, running his hand before his eyes - Hey, man! Hey! Wake up!

The police remained motionless. Zip tried to snatch the lantern from his hand, but the fingers were so stiff fixed that he could barely move them.

- What the hell is going on here? – he muttered, increasingly nervous. He put his hand on the policeman's shoulder and shook him slightly.

Then the body rocked back and began to fall. The boy tried to hold him, but it slipped and, upon impacting with the ground, he could plainly hear how it broke every bone in his body, but not with the typical opening crack, but a kind of pop, as if filled with crystals. As if he had burst into pieces on the very inside.

Zip's knees buckled and he leaned against the wall to avoid fall. The laptop slipped from his and it crashed to the ground. The dim light of the lantern flickered and died.

Suddenly he heard a strange sound. First he thought it was a murmur, then a whistle. Thousands of whistles. As if hundreds of tiny snakes and were whistling while in that thick darkness.

The whistles became more loud and clear. And then a female voice, just whistling, overcame that ophidian concert and whispered:

- Come, handsome boy, let me look at you...

Zip shuddered and cried out involuntarily.

_Run, damn it!_ - cried a voice in his mind - _Run!_

Meanwhile, the creature had come to his side and whistled softly:

- Handsome boy, look at me, let me see you with my eyesssss...

A hot breath fell on his neck, he was almost deafened with the multiple whistles while he noticed long, cold fingers creeping down his throat...

Finally he found the strength to run. Letting out a cry, he turned away from _that thing_ and started running down the drain, blinded why fear and lost, while the hissing of snakes was chasing him...

(…)

- Curse him. - Kurtis muttered, hiding in the dark. That damned boy had ruined his plans. He intended to use himself as bait to lure the Gorgon, but when he had managed her to follow him, suddenly the boy appeared. And after he had been seen by the monster, he had started to run, pushing the dam away.

He let out a sigh and went after them. Maybe if he surprised her from behind, entertained as she was with her new prey, it would be easier to end her. Leaving behind the crushed body of the police he went ahead, feeling the walls as he ran, hoping that foolish guy not to venture out of sewers, squeezing out the Gorgon on the street. If that happened, the real problems would have just begun. Under no circumstances she should be viewed by anyone. By anyone.

Since the existence of demons, the generic name with which the evil creatures to be eliminated were called by Kurtis, was something to hide. Always it had been leaked rumors and legends, and great myths, but nobody could prove it, since the elimination of the evidences was another radical obligation for the Lux Veritatis and so to silence witnesses who saw them.

This meant that if the Gorgon failed to kill Zip with her withering gaze, Kurtis would be, as always, forced to liquidate the guy.

(…)

Zip grabbed the manhole cover with both hands and pulled it out, trembling with terror. He climbed into the enclosure, which proved to be the basement of the building, and hid among some cardboard boxes. He no longer thought of his broken laptop or police catching him. He just wanted to save his life.

The ophidian whistle, loud and constant, again filled the small room. Zip began to retreat, crawling on all fours, covered in sweat.

- Handsome boy... - hissed the Gorgon - come with me...

Suddenly, the whispers ceased. Even the last snake remained silent. Then he heard the creature turned sharply to the manhole cover and hissed:

- You! Lux Veritatisssss!

As if it were an invocation, suddenly Zip glimpsed a corpulent figure that thrown itself against the Gorgon. This one started screaming and whistling enraged. The narrow room was dark, dimly lit by emergency light and wedged against the wall, unable to move, Zip saw two confusing shadows fighting each other.

The Gorgon hissed angrily, she struggled as an eel and defended with teeth and nails stabbing the man who tried to get rid of her and knocked her over. The creature bit him again and again in the arms and dug his nails into his face, trying to turn his face towards her, while he struggled to keep his face turned away from her.

- Look at me, you basssstard! – she yelled – Look at me!

Zip looked around, feeling he had to do something. He saw a fire extinguisher near the wall and after hesitating; he got up, ran towards it and unhooked it from the wall. Although his legs were shaking, he ran to where they were, and lifting the heavy fire extinguisher, he dropped it with all his forces on the Gorgon's head.

Although the so many snakes which made a stranger hairstyle on the Gorgon's head cushioned the blow, the impact was strong enough to momentarily stun the creature, and then the man took that moment to get rid of her and threw her down. Instantly, Zip, who had been close, heard a metallic click and saw five blades shining in the gloom.

Apparently, the Gorgon sensed she was in danger, because she tried to get up, but the man stepped on her stomach to keep her on the floor. As driven by a spring, the horrible creature rose and sank her teeth into his knee, but the attempt proved to be fatal. In a split of second the man grabbed her snake-crowned head with his hand and slit her neck with one blow. There was a thud when her head hit the floor. The whistle was extinguished.

For a moment, all that Zip could hear were his own strong heartbeat; whose sound _must_ be reaching the other end of the world, and the man's breathing. At last he heard his voice, in a deep tone:

- Turn on the light, boy.

Zip crossed his trembling hand through the wall until he found the switch and activated it. He almost fainted when _that_ gruesome scene appeared before his eyes.

On the floor lay the naked body of a woman. Well, it was said to be a _woman_ but her skin was scaly and completely gray and waxy like a corpse, her forms were bony and angular and the blood on which she lay had a blackish color.

A pretty beefy man in his thirties was still astride the body and held her severed head against the floor, waiting for the jerky movements of the small snakes to cease. Then he stood up slowly, holding the head which rocked to the beat. The Gorgon had a reptilian face with yellow eyes, which had lost their power to kill.

His posture reminded Zip on a sculpture he had seen on TV, one representing the hero Perseus with the head of Medusa. But the man was very different from the young Greek.

The man snorted, threw the severed head down and picked up the strange weapon with which he had beheaded her. The beast had defended herself vigorously. His hands and arms were full of bloody bites, his shirt was almost shredded and his face was streaked with scratches and cuts. He did not seem to care about that more than the bite he had received in the knee, which appeared bloodstained through his pants. He bent down and touched it, making a gesture of pain. However, Zip warned that his body remained rigid, his face alert, looking at the boy with his dark blue eyes. Zip was scared and wondered if he would have fallen out of the frying pan into the fire.

- What was that? – Zip faltered at last, looking at the head lying at his feet - A Medusa?

- I don't know if she was called Medusa - replied the other, making another wince as the injured leg supported on the floor - For the species, she was a Gorgon.

The boy never would say _that_ monster could have any name.

- I suppose I should thank you... – he began.

- Do not thank me. – the other interrupted – It has been you who have thrown up the fire extinguisher over her. Also, I'm afraid you won't be so grateful to me after all this will be over.

Zip noticed a cold sweat running down his back. He did not understand what he meant. He tried to swallow but found his throat dry as stony ground.

- What do you mean?

- Do not ask a question. You'll help me to hide this corpse.

(…)

_He will kill me. As I least expected... he will behead me with that chopper. I have fallen into the hands of a psychopath._

Zip was stumbling down the drain, painfully dragging the bag containing the body and the head of the Gorgon. The "psychopath" was behind him, alert, looking around, and illuminating him with the flashlight. He was limping slightly because of his injured knee.

- I can't go ahead, man. - Zip snorted, he no longer felt his arms - I will not drag this thing anymore.

The man peered around and said:

- Throw it to the pool there.

Zip took the body to the edge of the hole and pushed it with a kick. It took several seconds until he heard the "plop" from the bottom. The boy was trembling on the edge of the pool, waiting to feel the cold steel barrel on his neck. He would shoot him and he would fall headlong into a black abyss, to rot with the Gorgon forever...

He nearly fainted when he noticed something in the neck, but it was not an icy canyon, but a warm hand that pulled him back.

- Move aside, puppy, - a sarcastic voice said - or you'll fall to the bottom.

He released him, turned and limped away. He was still displaying a cynical smile. Was he playing with him?

- Do you hear that? - he said suddenly.

Zip acute his hearing. And then he heard sirens and voices in nearby tunnels.

- Shit! The cops!

- That policeman you've shattered surely sounded the alarm before our friend petrified him. Now they must have effective patrols in the area and the tunnels. In total, we have the whole area cordoned off.

The boy asked what they would do, especially in what could help him that Van-Helsing-like adventurer. As he followed him, the other said:

- Now show me the area through which you entered and we'll try our luck.

Zip then had a hint of defiance and said:

- For what? For killing me after that? Thanks, I prefer not to collaborate!

The man turned round so suddenly that he collided with Zip. His blue eyes sparkled.

- Ok, you _idiot_. Ruin your only chance to escape from here. For if you piss me off I'll leave you here. You're a hacker, right? I've seen your computer and your mark and it's no necessary to be a genius to deduce that when those cops put their hands on you, you're going to spend the next twenty years watching the sun through some bars. Is it what you want?

Zip did not respond.

- Good boy. Now show me the location you have entered.

He had no choice but to guide him through the sewers, his common field of action. They began walking hurriedly and ran away because the voices sounded ever closer. Zip almost felt satisfaction in thinking that running would be a real torture for the other's injured knee.

- Damn! - shouted Zip slowing down. There were lights in front of the tunnel - The road is over, man! Wait... here!

They got into another bend and came to a dead end tunnel. A manhole cover lead to the outside, but after forcing a few moments, the burly gasped:

- It is sealed with cement!

Zip let out another curse and looked back. The crowns of headlights were approaching.

- We are going to be caught, man! Unless you shoot them...

The other drew back, without looking away from the manhole cover:

- Not if I can avoid it.

He closed his eyes, breathed deeply and stretched out his arms.

- What are you doing, you moron! - Zip gasped - Not time to do _yoga_...!

There was a brutal pop and the manhole cover jumped up, shattering the cement seal and causing a noise like an explosion.

- _What the fuck...!_ - Zip howled, falling on his ass to the floor, staring in horror at the huge hole in the cement.

- Let's go. - the other said as if nothing else, pushing upwards. The boy followed him, took his hand held out to him and took to the streets. They immediately ran a while, went into an alley and got into a large waste container.

In that silence Zip could only wonder how he had got into that mess. He looked at his tour-mate, who with his ear glued to the metal wall of the container, was trying to hear something outside.

- What's next...?

- You talk too much. - said the other dryly - Learn to shut the fuck up occasionally.

- So tell me again what you will do with me. I'm tired of this comedy.

The man turned to look at Zip, and then he realized that on his bloodied face shone a glance filled with sorrow.

- You can go wherever you want. – he said, and shook his head - I've killed too many people.

And he fell silent. Zip leaned back on the rubble and did not move. Now that did not weigh on him a death threat, he reviewed the latest events. After a while he hesitated:

- Hey, man... what you did before... to bust that manhole cover... has been really great. I c-can't understand how you did it, but it ha-has been th-the-e most incredible thing I've ever s-seen...

The man squinted and said:

- Zip, I guess. You have left graffiti like cathedrals to bluff your misdeeds.

- Yes, almost everyone call me like that. Almost no one knows my name, and I do not like to be called otherwise. And you're...?

- You can call me... Kurtis.

Zip chuckled and said:

- What a cool name! Can I call you Kurt?

- No. _Kurtis._


	7. Chapter 6: The reencounter

**Chapter 6: The Reencounter**

- Miss...

Lara opened her eyes and stretched. At the foot of her bed was Winston, solicitous, offering a cordless phone on a tray.

The woman sat lazily, picked up the phone and then the steward told her:

- It's Professor Ivanoff, from Romania, miss. I could not locate him before.

- Thank you... Ivanoff! I have to talk to you about the Shard...!

- No, dear. - then she heard the voice of the professor - I'm the one who brings bad news. Meteora's monks have told me you still don't know about it.

Lara frowned.

- About what?

- The Periapt has been stolen.

The explorer sat bolt upright, completely clear now.

- What...?

- Yes, it happened two days ago. And Nikos Kavafis, who is the new abbot since Axiotis died some months ago, is suffering... a strange ailment. The brothers believe he's possessed.

- Damn, Vlad! Yesterday a kind of art dealer tried to buy me the Shard!

- But if it was forbidden to talk about it!

- That's what I'm trying to tell you, fool! Have you spilled the beans? Because Selma swears she knows nothing!

- Meeeee? Look my dear, if the last one of the Lux Veritatis orders to Vladimir Ivanoff to shut up about it, Ivanoff will shut up, okay?

She understood. The Romanian professor had a respect for him that bordered on panic, because of the events that had taken place two years ago in Bran. Lara jumped up and began pacing around her bedroom like a caged animal, while the edge of her nightgown was spinning around her ankles.

- It's too coincidental! The Periapt disappears and someone wants to buy its Shard! And neither of those two objects was known by the public domain! Do you understand?

- What about Mr. Yves?

- For God's sake, Ivanoff! I would trust Jean to give him my bank's account key!

- Do you want me to go to Meteora? I have to give a lecture in Athens and it would not cost much to me...

- Wait, let me go. I have to know _in situ_ what happened.

She said goodbye and hung up hastily. Winston was already next to her, attentive as ever.

- From now Selma and Charles will stay here.

- Miss Al-Jazeera was spending a few days with the Indian girl...

- No matter. Let them to get here too. And tell Selma to bring the Periapt Shard she keeps, wherever it is, and leave it here.

- Would not it be dangerous to reunite them? If the lady you see at the party was looking for one, also would want the other one...

Lara frowned. Winston was intelligent and had reasoned well.

- We must take the risk. It may be worse to keep them dispersed. I'm going to install a contribution to increase this house's security system. If the Periapt had been stolen from a dusty crypt in an isolated monastery, also they may try to steal from here. Damned monks! They don't know to take care of what is theirs! Why I left to them the Periapt!

- So, miss...

- I'm going to Meteora. Now. I have to know what happened and what happens to Kavafis.

(…)

Marie looked up while hearing the distinctive roar of the motorbike. She turned to the visitor and whispered:

- He's here.

She left the porch to greet him.

- Oh, Kurtis!

He limped slightly on the courtyard. Although he had washed the traces of blood, his face was full of scratches and his clothing was still torn.

- I had a bad day. - he joked. Then he frowned, for he saw the dark figure appearing behind his mother - What are you doing here?

The monk bowed.

- I have been sent by my brothers in Meteora. It's… it's urgent you follow me.

- He could not relax? - asked Marie - He's hurt!

- It's nothing. - he said, and turned to the monk - What happened?

The cenobite crossed his arms and hid his hands in the sleeves.

- Our abbot was attacked by an evil creature and we believe he's possessed.

- What evil creature? - Kurtis took a bucket of water and dropped it on his head. He immediately felt the sharp sting of the face's wounds. He tossed his hair back and buried his face in a towel.

- It was a woman.

Marie snorted and laughed.

- Come on, Pancratios! A woman is _not_ an evil creature.

- She looked like a woman but was a devil.

- That's better. - Kurtis pointed out – Did you need me only for that?

- We have bad news. The Periapt has been stolen.

Kurtis whirled:

- That it had been stolen? Are you a bunch of idiots or somewhat?

- Kurtis! - said the woman, shocked, but he continued:

- It is assumed that you are its ancestral guardians. If I had known this, I would have sent it back to Loanna's tomb. A dead woman was more protective than a band of living monks!

Pancratios said, visibly offended:

- We are not warriors like you. If someone takes from us something by force, we can not defend ourselves. Precisely we have people like you for that. And now we ask you to help us.

He raised his hands helplessly and said:

- Okay. I'll go.

(…)

Lara sat on the rock and looked up. Ayios Stefanos gazed proudly at her since its location at the top of the huge rock. She had planned to go and take a look, but she didn't want to be discovered. The monks were very unfriendly and inhospitable to women. Lara didn't care really at that attitude, but she wanted to investigate on her own without being disturbed. And that's why she had not announced her arrival and has planned not to do so.

- Well, here we go. - she muttered, and began to climb the cliff.

Getting up will cost her about twenty minutes. She collapsed at the entrance of the monastery, her body drenched in sweat and her heart pounding in her chest. She pulled a black habit, which had prepared for the occasion, and dressed it. The rim of the mantle covered her boots and a hood concealed her face. She hid her hands in long sleeves, after removing her leather mittens, and went into the monastery quietly.

The monastery was as quiet and peaceful as it had always been. The explorer walked the corridors; exchanging a brief nod to each brother she crossed paths with. Some of them turned, surprised, since they did not remember having a partner so tall, but they didn't gave much importance to the issue.

Suddenly, a young novice came to her and grabbed her arm. She was startled.

- Brother! – he whispered - Come on! It is said that he already has arrived and he's looking at the _patéras_.

Of course, she had no idea about who had arrived, but she quickly followed the novice. They arrived in a large room, cleared of furniture, where it was half community, crowded and restless. Among the tangle of dark habits Lara distinguished, in their midst, the abbot Nikos Kavafis. He seemed consumed and deteriorated, but his red eyes bulged from their sockets. He had blood over his face and then Lara understood, seeing that he had been tied behind his back, who it had been _him_ who had caused the wounds to _himself_.

Suddenly a deep voice thundered in the room:

- But, what have you done?

Lara felt her heart rising in her throat. Her legs almost buckled because it was the last voice she had expected to hear again. She remained stiffened and breathless.

A man entered the room and walked passing by her side. She instinctively drew back, while the sweat froze on her skin.

_Kurtis... Kurtis!_

The Lux Veritatis walked to the center of the room and looked at the abbot. Nikos seemed inhuman, almost animal, but that did not seem to frighten him. He turned sharply to the others. He was furious:

- Why do you have him tied up like a dog?

The parish clerk came forward and said:

- It's for your safety... and ours. Satan has entered him for days and he doesn't recognize anything or anyone. He has scratched his own face, or cutting it, he has attacked many brothers and even tried jumping from the top of the rock. He drools and spits and he's always uttering blasphemous words, for it is the devil who speaks through his mouth.

Kurtis moved closer to the abbot, while all recoiled in terror.

- Can you hear me, Nikos? - Kurtis muttered staring at him.

A Machiavellian laughter sprang from the lips of skinned abbot. Lara held back a scream. The voice that emerged was not the one from the monk who had known both. Instead, a guttural voice, hoarse, distorted admonished him:

- I hear you perfectly, you son of a great bitch..._magnam umbram et mortem spectare tui_... Have you come to know, right? _Ergo auscultare mei, Lux Veritatis_ ... your days are going to end very soon... for you and that daughter of a bitch who is there hiding ...

Lara could not believe what she was hearing. The terrifying voice, that unnatural mixture of broken Latin and Greek, and the fact that _he could see her_ was incomprehensible. But Kurtis did not seem to respond to that and continued:

- Who are you?

- _Ego sum tenebram princeps_, with more class and purity that you, mortal bastard.

- Let me talk to Nikos Kavafis.

- That one is over. He dared to put his filthy hands on the Divine Lady, and She sent me to punish him. But this punishment is little compared to what awaits you, _meretrix filium_.

- Who's that Lady?

- She is the one that was to come, Lilith's Daughter, Lady of all demons. She brings in her veins the blood of the Immortals and has come to avenge the Blessed. Beware of her aura, motherfucker, while you can.

During that interval, some monks, unable to endure that voice had dropped to the ground and others had left. Most of them were passing their rosary's beads and murmuring prayers between moans, crossing themselves without stopping.

Kurtis sighed with exhaustion, as if tired of that interview, or as if he had seen things like that hundreds of times.

- If you don't let me talk with the abbot, I'll have to force you to go.

For a moment, the creature that had seized Nikos's narrowed his eyes. Then, without more, he spat on Kurtis' face and gave another monstrous laugh. That apparently ended with the man's patience, who turned loose to the rest of the group:

- Get out of here!

The monks were not willing to do anything else apart from that, but Lara did not want to leave the compound, although her heart beat violently to the horror of the scene. Taking advantage on the buzz of monks who left hurriedly, she slid down the wall and crouched in a corner. Kurtis only stood with the parish clerk, who seemed to be brave.

But he paid no attention to that. He seemed focused on his role and suddenly reached out and drew a strange symbol in the eyes of the abbot, who screamed heartbreaking, fell down and began to writhe as if rolling between coals.

Lara was not ready for that, she either had ever seen anything so horrible. She remembered the stories that Father Dunstan had told her about demons and exorcisms, stories which she had always mocked of, considering them mere fancies, and bit her lip to keep from screaming.

- You're killing him! – said the startled clerk, clutching his rosary tightly between his fingers.

- I hope not. - murmured Kurtis, who had on his face an expression of deep sadness and guilt.

Suddenly, the abbot left squirming. Kurtis bowed and said:

- Are you gonna let me talk to him now?

Then, after a final grin evil, the monk's face regained the human composure that characterized him. He looked around briefly, deeply stunned, and then released a rant in an unintelligible language, which was not Greek or Latin, as complex as creepy, abrupt and icy. The clerk shivered, and from the depths of her hood Lara saw Kurtis' eyebrows rising in surprise. But then he answered to him, in the same language! The abbot seemed relieved that someone finally could understand him. After an exchange of incomprehensible phrases, Kurtis turned to the clerk and said:

- She has done a mess, that Lady.

When Kurtis looked in her direction, Lara lowered her head to avoid being recognized.

Jesus! Among all the mortal enemies and friends, relatives and acquaintances, she had to found _him!_ She folded her arms to hide her trembling hands. Damn it! He was the last person who had expected to find, and now he was about to derail her plans to go unnoticed, although she had taken too much risk in not going out with the other monks.

But then the clerk spoke:

- Has he been freed of the demon that possessed him?

- He's gone for now. But I could not keep him of going back. Also, whoever he was talking about has put over him a curse of Babel language.

The other looked at him dumbfounded. Kurtis said:

- That means that he is _actually_ speaking Greek, or so he thinks, but we do not understand him. And conversely, we believe him to be talking in Greek, but he does not understand us.

- Witchcraft! And you also speak that language?

- I do _not_ speak that, but it seems that I _speak_ that. - and seeing the stunned expression of the clerk, Kurtis shook his head – It's useless, you can't understand. It's a Babel language curse. Babel... has confused us all.

- Can you heal him?

Kurtis looked back to the abbot, who was looking away and began to experience spasms in the face. Lara had the horrible feeling that the devil was trying _to get back_.

- There's nothing I can do.

The clerk looked at him, shocked, and said:

- But she said that only you could save him! The woman who attacked him and stole the Periapt!

Then Nikos rolled her eyes and emitted a guttural roar:

- Bat…hsheeee...ba...

Kurtis looked at him a moment and said:

- Bathsheba. He said _Bathsheba_.

This time Lara gasped in surprise. The man turned back to her but once again the clerk caught his attention:

- I don't know if that was her name. But he was wonderfully beautiful, beautiful as a witch! She took the Periapt and cursed our abbot before disappearing.

- What else did she say?

- Only that you will heal him. That you killed her father and that your fight was not over.

Lara could not get over her astonishment. Slowly she rose and slowly she separated from the wall where she had been supported. Kurtis had fallen into a mournful silence.

- It's better to leave him locked and well guarded. The demon could return.

- Is it impossible for you to heal him?

- I can only throw the demon, but not prevent his re-enter. I can not heal the curse, I'm not a Healer. If she said that, she was wrong.

Lara slowly slipped out the door. By the time her hand gripped the knob, she heard Kurtis screaming:

- You, still there! Show me your face!

(…)

Lara was stunned for a moment. She opened the door with a jerk and ran down the aisle, while holding the hood on her head.

Kurtis went after her but he quickly lost her. What a runner! He looked to where she had fled and run towards the cloister. He ran down the hall and opened a door leading to the outside by the fountain. He accelerated to full speed and at that moment caught her just as she left through the archway.

He didn't give her time to react. He threw himself on the fugitive and flung her to the ground. She let out a cry of rage and surprise, because she had not expected the attack. But Kurtis, astride her, got astonished. Was it his imagination or he had heard _a woman scream?_

Lara used the situation to push him and try to get up. He grabbed her hood and pulled and tore up and down the fine fabric to discover Lara's furious face, with flushed cheeks and tousled brown hair.

For a moment, Kurtis looked at her totally stunned, as he could not believe what his eyes were seeing. His expression was so funny that Lara could not help sketch a face and say:

- Well? What will you do now, Kurtis Trent? Arresting me for spying?

He was still stunned, shocked. At the end he managed to articulate in a hoarse voice:

- Lara...

She pushed him away (since he was still half lying on her) and stood up, towering dignity. Kurtis stared at her in silence, amazed at how little she had changed. The same young face, the same lean and flexible body, the same vital and challenging character. Lara was always the same, so charming and yet challenging.

- Why did you do that? - he said then.

- What?

- Entering the monastery like a spy. Do you now something about this Bathsheba, right?

- Maybe.

- Why are you hiding, Lara? - he insisted.

She narrowed her eyes and snapped:

- Maybe because _I didn't want anyone to see me_, don't you think so?

He sighed and ran his hand across his face, as if exhausted. Now that she was close, Lara saw he had changed. Those two years had been like a breath for Lara and an eternity for Kurtis. They had left Lara intact, while had beaten Kurtis head-on. He looked older, more tired, despite he was four years younger than Lara. His eyes were sunken; his shoulders charged and seemed to be full of grief and exhaustion. However, he was still _undoubtedly_ attractive, and his deep dark blue eyes were shining in the same way, and not a single gray broke the intense darkness of his hair.

Then she realized that she had spent a while staring at him in silence and quickly looked away as she said:

- Ivanoff told me that the Periapt had been stolen and so I wanted to know what had happened, but not that these monks intrude in my plan. That's all. – she concluded upset, wondering why she felt compelled to give him some explanations.

- I would have liked you to stay away from all this. - he murmured more to himself than to her - But you've heard of this Bathsheba, judging by your reaction. What do you know about her?

A ray of sunlight slipped between the thick cloud cover which for some time had covered the valley. The light struck Lara's hair and gave it a golden appearance that it didn't use to have.

- Three days ago I met at in a party an art dealer called Bathsheba. It's not a very common name and the description fits, since she must be the same person who has stolen the Periapt, because she offered to buy me the Shard.

Kurtis looked at her, stunned.

- Damn it, Lara! – he shouted. Something in his reaction made Lara think that, if it had been a door close, he would have made it explode in pieces - I entrusted to you its custody!

- Don't _dare_ to accuse me. - she said coldly – Neither Selma nor I have betrayed the existence of the Shard. Therefore there is only one person.

- My mother - he went on, furious - lives alone and confined for years and she just talk to nobody but me. In fact, she's the most trustworthy.

Lara struck him with her eyes:

- I'm not going to stay here to hear your criticisms.

She turned, but then noticed Kurtis' hand grabbing her arm. She contained an involuntary shudder.

- I'm not accusing you, Lara. I only... bah, to hell with that. That's not what I want to talk about with you, after two years.

Lara felt her hands tremble and burn her face. She had imagined a thousand times that reencounter, but those proud and defiant statements she had prepared for the occasion had been erased from her memory. She just felt that warm hand resting on her arm and those deep eyes penetrating her. Her heart was beating in her chest like a drum and that made her feeling furious with herself. What the hell happened? She was losing control!

- I have to go. – she murmured, loosen her from his hand - Here I have nothing else to do.

He cut her way off and looked at her ahead.

- Wait, Lara. We need to talk.

She smiled slightly and said:

- I did not remember you were so _diplomatic_. In any case, I think you and I have nothing to talk about.

- Lara...

- It's been two years - she added with a tone that brooked no argument - and a lot of things have changed, Kurtis. It is best to leave things as they are.

She turned and headed toward the edge of the precipice. For a moment she thought he would not add anything more, but then she heard him say:

- You should return the Shard to me, right? After all, it's still mine.

Lara stood. She had not counted on that.

- Within two days, come to Surrey. - she said, feeling that it was not her voice that spoke - I'll return you the Shards and then you'll go.

She started to down the cliff quickly. However, looking up after a while, she saw he was still standing there on the edge, looking at her in silence. And what she read in his eyes almost make her lose concentration. She gripped the stone with slippery hands, and she did not look up again.


	8. Chapter 7: The legionnaire

**Chapter 7: The Legionnaire**

- What! Kurtis was there? Oh please, Lara, tell me _everything!_

- My head hurts, Selma. - she murmured, her face buried in the pillow of the couch - Leave me alone.

- Alone! How can you be _alone_ in that moment! You are drier than a desert! Did you have invited him to come, didn't you?

- He _almost_ invited himself.

- Please, Lara! What a genius! Have you talk abou...?

- Selma, outta here.

The Turkish girl rose, offended, and left the room abruptly. At the door she met Charles, who came with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

- Beware. - Selma warned pointing to Lara - Today she's almost biting!

When she closed the door, Charles laughed.

- Sometimes I think this girl, rather than an archaeologist, should be a gossip reporter. And you, as always, making friends...

- If she keeps annoying me, I'll send her to sleep to the cemetery. - Lara groaned, writhing on the couch.

Charles laughed again and uncorked the bottle.

- Look what Winston has taken out of the cellar! A top quality vintage Burgundy. Let's try it.

Lara's mouth twitched.

- I bet you've spent two days drinking my entire cellar.

- And looking after your house and taking care of your beloved ones, my sweetness. But neither Bathsheba nor anyone else has come here.

He poured two glasses and offered one to Lara. Then he looked out the window and said:

- He's not that man, is he?

Outside in the garden, they saw Winston, who was supposed to be overseeing the work of gardeners in the hedge outside, but who was in fact heading for a strong man who had parked an enviable motorcycle and was receiving him with the greatest of kindness, probably due to the intimate admiration he felt for him because of his sketches.

- Did you see that? - Lara grunted - My own butler conspiring against me.

- Well - said Charles, laughing - I just see that he complies with the rules of courtesy. By the way, where did this guy come from? It looks like a mixture of McGyver and Terminator.

Lara winced tired but said nothing.

The door opened and she and Charles stood up in their seats. Lara was wearing a beautiful long skirted silvery gray suit that enhanced her skin and her hair was tied back. She could almost imagine Selma's malicious comments about that, but for her it was clear she had put so pretty well to "give respect for the visitor" and "be imposed with due dignity of a host."

- You're really beautiful with that. - Charles had told him, and now Lara had the impression of reading the same message in Kurtis's eyes.

Then, a scream broke the awkward silence that had formed. Selma suddenly appeared and practically threw herself to the man's neck, while depositing two noisy kisses on his cheeks.

- Kurtis! You are radiant! - said the girl - Two years without seeing you, glad you're okay, I thought that you...!

Lara did not hear Selma's hopeful words or what Kurtis answered to her. She just felt a deep anger inside her, caused by Selma's attitude. Not because of jealousy (this would have been _nonsense_) but because, in her spontaneous and friendly response, the Turkish girl was leaving Lara as a dry and rude person. Suddenly, she felt like getting up and crying out loud, but she did not know why.

- I think that's enough, Selma. – she spat dryly. The girl pulled away from Kurtis and glared at her, but she, ignoring her, told Kurtis – You'll say.

Kurtis looked around. Lara was elegantly installed on her couch and behind her, Charles waited in silence, as if he were a bodyguard. Selma was uncomfortable staring at the floor from the chair she was sitting in. Then Winston, horrified, realized that nobody had offered him a seat and hurried to put a chair for Kurtis.

Smiling wryly, and with all the impudence of the world, Kurtis turned the chair, sat with his legs apart, elbows on the back and crossed his fingers, resting his chin on them. Lara took this gesture as a challenge.

- This seems a real audience. Do I have to bow and kiss your hand, _milady_? Or should I just kneel and lick the sole of your shoes?

- If it makes you happy. - she muttered, annoyed by her attitude. Then he looked at others and saw that everyone was ready to burst into laughter, except Winston, who looked at her sadly, as if to say: _This is not right_.

- I would prefer them to leave us alone. - Kurtis pointed.

Selma jumped up and hurried to leave the room, as if wishing to leave them alone. After a moment's hesitation, Charles followed her, and finally Winston, throwing Lara a glance she could not interpret as he closed the door quietly.

- I don't know what's wrong with you, Lara. I don't know why you're behaving like a sulky child.

- Cut the crap, Kurtis. You come for the Shard.

- And for something else.

Lara stood indignantly. But hey, ever heard such impudence!

- That something else does not interest you, because you're not going to get it.

- I want to know why you're so angry with me.

She pursed her lips. For a second, she thought she would hold on, but finally she broke out:

- What did you expect? You disappeared two years ago. I did not know whether to give up you for dead. And suddenly you show up again and pretend that everything remains the same as before you go. Well, not at all! Take your Shard and get out of here. I do not want to hear from you.

Kurtis stood motionless, looking into her eyes, as if he were not convinced of what he had heard. Then he murmured:

- I need a cigarette.

He got up, pulled out one from a snuff pack and lit it. He approached the wall, leaned on it and took a drag. He seemed nervous.

- Let's see... you have a problem of misunderstanding. – he said slapping his forehead with two fingers - First, what am I? No, wait, don't tell me. I'll tell you: a Lux Veritatis. Did you forget what that means?

She did not answer.

- I told you, Lara. I told you I could not stay with you. You and I can not be together. So I left.

- Great, because of that you'll go again.

- You should not get angry. I told you very clearly, how is my life, as it has always been: all the people I've loved have died at the hands of my enemies. It's their way of revenge. I did not want the same thing happen to you.

- Do not give me gibberish. You did it for your stupid sense of honor, for all those bullshit about having a mission to fulfill.

- Dammit, Lara. I expected more from you.

Lara jumped up, walked to the door and opened it. She poked her head into the hallway and said:

- Winston, instead of being there spying, call Radha and tell her to bring the velvet box.

Then she slammed the door and turned back to Kurtis:

- I _also_ expected _more_ from you. Why don't you once acknowledge the truth? You took advantage of me in a bad way. We were together in a difficult situation and I got carried away. What I don't know is how I could be _so_ stupid! Of course, I have fame of whore, right? Of easy girl. What surprises me is that you didn't stay up to achieve _everything._

Kurtis stood up as if the wall had burnt him:

- I'm not that kind of man!

- I don't care about what you may say. I neither forgive, nor forget.

He put again the cigar in his mouth while muttering something about that it was surreal and a little more about he was running out of patience. He took a deep drag, blew the smoke slowly and said:

- You may stay with your ridiculous and selfish ideas. These two years have been torture for me, especially because I've tried to forget you but I simply could not... and don't turn you face like an offended maiden. If you can't understand why I left, at least you should understand _why_ I'm holding up the way you're treating me. In fact, it's for the same reason.

To the great relief of Lara she did not have to hear what reason was (although she could imagine... and fear it) because at that moment the door opened and appeared Radha. The little Indian girl had in her hands a velvet case. But when she just looked up, the little black girl's eyes widened in horror at seeing Kurtis, screamed and fell full length on the damask carpet.

Lara and Kurtis rushed at the same time on the small figure, which was pale and unconscious.

- See? You scare kids. – Lara took advantage to make a cruel joke, but she stopped when she saw that Radha was truly unconscious and Kurtis watched at her in silence. Then she looked up and asked:

- Do you know her? ...

He murmured:

I think so ... but it was a long time ago...

(…)

Hours later, when Radha was restored from her impression (otherwise it would not have been) and at night, she would tell Lara why she knew Kurtis, although it had been so long time ago that he barely remembered her.

Radha was nine years old when the Legion had attacked the village of Khusuma Bharadji. It really was not an attack itself (for, what harm could do those poor, miserable people to them?) but merely a raid... just for fun.

The little one was kneading manure to make bricks, a very common occupation among children in India. Beside her, her older sister, the gentle Sita, sat staring at her.

Sita was fifteen and had half of her face burned, devoured by the acid that her husband, alienated, had thrown over her after she had tried to escape several times. That hateful man had died of old and Sita had gone home, expelled from the house. Dressed in white, befitting her status as a widow and with a shaved head and a deformed face, she had to cover her face so nobody saw it. She was only a shadow of what she had been and all ignored her. It would have been better for her to cast herself on the pyre of her deceased tormentor. The only one who took pity on her was her younger sister, who contrary to what the strict Hindu custom ordered, she was always bringing her food and conversation.

- Don't you miss your lost beauty? - Radha told her, knowing that her sister had always been admired for the delicacy of her features. But Sita always replied:

- I haven't lost my beauty, Radha. I'm looking it pretty now at your face.

Over time, Radha was convinced that what had destroyed her sister was not acid, but marriage. And she trembled while waiting for the day when a man would put a hand on her.

Suddenly, they heard screams on the edge of the village.

- What happens?

Sita stood, covering again her misshapen face with a veil. Then they heard the first burst of shrapnel.

- _Dacoit!_ - Radha shouted while rising, pronouncing the name of the most feared criminals among the locals.

- No. - said Sita – They're the legionnaires.

She did not ask how she knew that. She would not have understood that her older sister had to give her body to those white men to get some food and survive, always keeping her face veiled. After all, the face was not what they wanted in a woman, and they never would have come again to her if seeing how she _actually _was.

Sita took her hand and led her into the jungle, which was very close. They huddled under some leaves and remained silent. The cries and shots were increasing. And suddenly it sounded the first blast. Radha cowered, terrified. Sita, who was looking over the bushes, said:

- The village is burning. They have set it on fire.

Radha gave a sob of fear. Her sister seemed strangely quiet. Was she not afraid of that?

- What will become of father, mother and brothers?

- May the benevolent Lakshmi have mercy on them. I'll take care of you.

They remained motionless for a moment, and suddenly, some branches creaked a few steps from them. Before she could react, Sita lifted her with a jerk and pushed her forward. Something whizzed past next to her ear and slammed in the bark of a nearby tree. She gave a cry of terror and buckled her knees.

- Run or you're dead! - Sita screamed in her ear.

Suddenly, four huge figures cut off their way. They were strong, pale faced men, which gave a terrible impression to be covered with dirt and have a wild and fierce expression on their faces.

Radha tried to retreat, but the strong arms lifted her up and carried her on a back before she could even react. She struggled, but her nine years were little against the force of that brutal man. She looked back but only managed to see two of them dragging her sister, taking her by her white robe. She would never see her again.

She knew it would not help at all, but she yelled. She screamed with all her strength while her captor took her through the jungle. The journey did not last long; soon they reached an open area full of barracks, tents and trenches. It was the Foreign Legion camp.

- Hey! Look! - shouted gleefully the legionnaire who had kidnapped her, throwing her to the ground as if she was a sack - Look what a cute thing I found!

The other released grotesque laughter and came to look at the girl, who was paralyzed with terror and did not even react when someone dragged her into a dark damp barrack. When they reach the door she regained her strength and clung desperately to the doorframe, screaming so hard that he shushed her in a one punch. That did not flinch her, because suddenly, in her tender and childlike mind, she had begun to sense what they wanted to do with her and so she began biting and kicking to try to get rid of those dirty hands that held her, beaten and rummaged under her tore sari fabric.

- What the hell are you doing?

Radha did not understand those words, as any other she had heard, as they were expressed in French, but they had the power to stop their attackers, who turned towards the one who had spoken, another legionnaire who had just arrived.

- Hey, Trent! – shouted the one who was holding her - Tell me what you think about _this!_

And pushed her so brutally that Radha fall into the arms of another legionnaire, who held her firmly but not violently.

- We've got her from the village - he continued - Of course; as you didn't want to come with us...

Without uttering a word, that guy went through his colleagues and got inside the hut, grabbing the girl with him. That provoked the laughter of the other Legionnaires, who applauded and whistled with obscene shouting:

- What a cheek, Trent! When you finish with her, please tell us!

The door closed, darkness pervades everything, and Radha was no longer but a naked and huddled girl sobbing terrified in a corner, waiting for that brutal man did with her what he wanted ...

He heard her attacker coming and going with something and a flame was kindled in the midst of darkness. It was the lighter of the soldier, in whose light he could see about Radha's face. He was pale and severe as the others, and his hair was dark. A shallow cut beside the eye, bloodied his left temple. But she could not help but notice his eyes. She had never seen someone who had eyes like that. They were blue.

- Fuck. - he murmured - If you're only a child.

She was shaking so hard that her teeth chattered and shook. The Legionnaire reached out and touched her shoulder, which caused the girl screaming and going aside.

- Do not yell, little one. I won't do anything to you.

A slight smile appeared on the soldier's face, and although Radha could not understand him, she was reassured by the calm tone of his voice.

The soldier felt sick. Sick of him and of the world that surrounded him. He knew this was normal and frequent, that the military men, pushed to the limit of their endurance at inhuman missions that made them go crazy of loneliness and pain, eventually became cruel killing machines, and soon also thieves and rapists. Since no one had compassion for them, they had no compassion for anyone. Not even for a nine years old innocent child, even for a village of poor people. He knew it and hated them all and also hated himself, because in some ways he was like them.

He got up, determined, and gave her a jacket, with which Radha covered herself immediately. Then he opened a trapdoor in the floor and pointed to the tunnel. It drove across the camp and the soldiers used it to escape from the disciplines. Despite language barriers, Radha understood perfectly. She approached to the hole and, before going down, she turned and quickly taking the rough hand of the legionnaire, kissed it in gratitude. Then she dropped in and ran across the tunnel towards freedom.

The legionnaire stared for a moment the trap door, sighed and dropped it. Then he went to confront his peers, feeling they were no longer men, but beasts.

This extraordinary man had been none other than Kurtis himself.

(…)

When Radha concluded her story, Selma was happily smiling and Lara was silent. The Turkish girl was glad to have no reason to see slightly disturbed the heroic image of Kurtis that she had forged. As for Lara, she wasn't surprised at all, for if among this horde of savages whom everyone knew it was the Legion, was a single man who would save Radha of injury and dirt that had to be Kurtis, so overprotective and clean in the depths of himself, though all that surround him rot out.

And what about Radha? What strange fate had made that the same girl would have been saved by both Kurtis long ago and Lara now? The explorer did not believe in fate, but she could not take her mind off that girl with black eyes looking at her smiling now. What higher power had placed her in her hands? Was okay now to discard her like old clothes now that she had escaped the fire as was spared by Kurtis from being raped, now that her conscience was calmed...?

- Radha – she said then, and did not recognize her own voice and why she uttered those words - Would you like to stay and live here in Surrey?

The creature's eyes were opened ecstatic, and as the child that she should never cease to be, she threw herself at her lap with her arms around her neck as she kissed her cheek:

- Oh, _bahanji_, I'd love to stay with you!

Lara stiffened because she had never received a hug from a child, but then relaxed and smiled. Selma looked at her silently both surprised and pleased for her decision.

- Ahem, ahem...

They turned. Winston waited politely in the doorway.

- What room you reserve to Mr. Trent? Due to the indisposition of Miss Deli, I deduced that he would stay overnight.

Lara frowned.

- The doghouse will suite him.

The elbow she received from Selma in the flank cut off her breath.

- Okay - she granted, rolling his eyes – Give him the one room down the hall.

Winston came out and sighed. Kurtis, at the foot of the stairs, exhibited a wry smile.

- Well, where does the dog sleep?

The butler blushed to the ears and mumbled:

- I'm sorry...

- Don't worry man. - he said, loading the haversack over his shoulder - By the way, she's always like that when angry?

Winston took a quick glance over his shoulder, and after making sure that no one could hear him, murmured:

- Nah, she's even worse.

- Then I pity you, Winston. You're a true saint.


	9. Chapter 8: The haze woman

**Chapter 8: The haze woman**

Lara woke up early. As always this happened to her, she put on a tracksuit and went for footing.

Surrey was a set of several hills which were green in summer and in autumn they turned to golden brown. Lara liked to run when it had just dawned and the air was still cold. A dense fog floated all around her so she neither saw where she came from or where she went, which gave her a great sense of freedom and escape.

She stopped in the middle of a meadow, panting and sweaty. The fog began to dissipate and the first rays of sunlight began to seep through the clouds.

Suddenly, she seemed to distinguish something in the fog. It seemed a tall and slender figure.

- Hey! – she cried - Who's there?

Those lands were her property and no worker should be there at that hour. She started to follow it, but the fog did not allow her even distinguish who it was.

The figure moved forward, then walked away, but she did not even hear the sound of feet touching the grass. A strange white mist seemed be flying around the figure, was it a dress?

Lara ran. She was very fast and in a few seconds she should have been with that. But something strange happened: the figure did not move, however, she could not reach it. Always away from her, always out of reach, even running, but it did not move!

And suddenly, it was in front of her.

Lara screamed in surprise, and amid the mist, a beautiful intricate stained face framed by dark lines and an albino hair, returned her the glance of a pair of empty eyes. A pair of white hands stroked her throat, cold as ice, and the intense perfume of lavender completely flooded her.

Lara squirmed and tried to grab the apparition, but her fingers grasped only cold air. And yet there it was, before her and its albino face which was suddenly horribly familiar to her.

But then she noticed a strong pincers on the temples, lost her balance and fell backward, not knowing why she had lost all her strength.

Laying into the ground, she saw the albino _lady_ leaning over her, and then she lost consciousness.

(…)

She opened her eyes. Surprised, she noticed a metallic taste in the mouth and, when she incorporated, the blood that filled her mouth slipped from the corners of her lips and slim streaks ran down her neck. She had bitten her tongue when she fell.

Gurgling breathing and sore, she looked around. The fog had cleared off the grass and the sun shone fully. Slowly she rose, after checking her tongue had not been damaged severely. The green grass was too much bright and she still felt the fragrance of a familiar scent...

Upon awakening, an object fell from her lap. She bent down, picked it up, and stared at it for a moment, wondering what was doing there.

It was a lavender flower.

(…)

- Winston? Where's everybody?

Lara looked around, surprised. There was not a single noise in the house, and that was strange, because although she didn't want to admit it, she already was used to the scandal made by the Indian girl –who was gradually regaining her childhood- while running from one room to another, or hearing Selma humming a few poems in her native language.

The butler feigned an air of innocence:

- Miss Deli's still asleep. Yesterday she ended up very tired by the developments and...

- Yes, yes, yes, but ... what about Selma?

Winston looked down, blushing. He was terrible to pretend. At the end of his small mouth he mumbled:

- She has gone with Mr. Trent...

- _What!_

The venerable Irishman raised his eyes then to fix in sight the stunned face of his mistress, and then saw the dried blood around his mouth.

- Miss, you're wounded! Let me...

- To hell with that, Winston! Selma and Kurtis have gone? Without saying anything?

He said nothing more. Choked with rage, she turned and went upstairs like a hurricane. Winston followed her to calm her.

- You see, miss, I can explain...

- I hope _so!_

- ... Mr. Trent got up this morning ready to go. He would not say why. You were already gone and Ms. Al-Jazeera had been talking at length with him. She has finally packed up and accompanied him.

- But why? After having received them at _my_ home! Both she and that ... that...!

Before she dropped some atrocity, the butler stepped in quickly:

- They have left for Turkey.

Lara could not go out of her indignation. She began to shed the wet tracksuit with fury, forgetting that Winston was before her. With courtesy, the old man opened the door of the closet to hide him from viewing her.

- Let's see... – he continued, more and more nervous – Mr. Trent wanted to go to Turkey to solve... some unfinished business. Something about Cappadocia's necropolis. As you know, Miss Al-Jazeera worked there as an archaeologist... in fact, it seems that she has offered to help him. And they have gone, taking the Periapt Shards with them, just as you wanted...

- _Just as I wanted!_ They've left without saying a word! Without telling _me!_ How dare they?

- Well... if you let me being so bold, miss ... you made it clear that you wanted Mr. Trent to leave as soon as possible... and that you had no interest at all in his business...

No answer. The closet door opened behind him slowly and showed Lara's face, who was red with rage. She was almost scary.

- I hope you have not had _anything_ to do with this plot, Winston.

But the steward kept staring at the tips of their shoes. Suddenly, Lara felt sure that he _did_ have a lot to do with it. Blackmail, of course! But why did she get angry? Didn't she want him to go? What really bothered her was that Kurtis had left without saying goodbye, that Selma would have accompanied him, giving her a slam in her very face, or maybe that they had undertaken an adventure for their part and leaving her aside, knowing it was what most would hurt her pride? Or was it _all_ at once?

Already more quiet, Lara said:

- I'm going to Turkey. Take care of Radha until I return. If they think they can do this to me, they are wrong. Whatever they have to do in Cappadocia, they will not let me out of this. It would be nice to go without me! We'll see who laughs the last...

As she got into the shower letting oaths and curses, Winston, still with his head down, smiled with a smile of triumph.

(…)

Marie returned home at dusk, carrying her bag of old rags. She was exhausted, she had not expected that one of her patients put in labor that day, but at least it was all over happily. She was proud to remain so skilled at old age.

The sun had set and a red mist enveloped the house. As she approached, the silence thickened and she only heard the rustle of her feet against the gravel floor. She entered the back yard when she saw a white shadow in the corner of an eye.

She swerved and thought she saw a foggy figure melted into the darkness barely moving.

- Who's here! – she shouted.

Silence. Marie left the basket on the floor and walked slowly to the porch. Then again saw a white flash, this time on the other side.

Her instinct, used to react to the slightest danger, prompted her to run for the door. When she yanked and turned to close the door, she saw in the doorway of pair of empty sockets in some kind of cerulean face watching her. With a cry of horror, Marie tried to close the door, but was unable to move, seemed to have been barred. The white figure came wrapped in a strange mist.

She did not stay to pray or to beg for her life. Realizing that _this_ was a matter of seconds, she ran into the room, pulled a rifle from a chest and laid it at a speed that any experienced soldier would have envied. Then she pointed to the sinuous haze beginning to enter the room.

- Stay away! Go away or I'll shoot! – she howled, even though she knew that a firearm may not hurt _that_ thing.

An intense aroma filled the air, and fell back, dazed.

- Stay away! – she repeated, trying to control the tremor in her voice.

An intense cold seized her. Her sight began to be clouded. Finally she pulled the trigger.

There was a dull roar, the bullet melted into mist. Suddenly, the white aura contracted and Marie thought she had heard a slight groan. There was a deep sound of suction and as it had come, the apparition vanished.

Marie remained a moment, trembling, her rifle rose yet. Then she slowly lowered it. The silence was awful and a strange fragrance filled the room.

Finally she dropped the rifle and put it on the table. Pressing her lips tightly, she prepared to take her essentials. Accustomed to flee, Marie knew that whatever was that thing, it was looking for her and if it returned, it would be better not to be there.

(…)

Istanbul, the beautiful, serene city, received her the same way than two years ago. As she walked through the streets, inhaling the scent of saffron market, Lara remembered. On those same streets she had advanced to the place where she was going now, to contact a young Turkish archaeologist who was taking care of a wounded and sick man...

Lara shook her head, annoyed. There was no time for nostalgia! This time it was something very different. She felt offended and insulted. Perhaps she had not been very polite with Kurtis, but Selma, whom she had taken to England because of her moral trauma of returning to Turkey, how dare she to make that to her? She'll see!

When she reached the door of Selma's apartment in Turkey, she was again so upset that pounded without mercy, shouting:

- Selma Al-Jazeera! Open immediately!

A turbaned old man looked out the window of a neighboring house, attracted by the screams. He stared, mouth agape, to that blatant European arming such a scandal. Lara saw him and snapped:

- What the hell are you looking at!

The old man hurried to close the window and go inside, shocked, at the time Selma slowly opened the apartment's door.

The Turkish girl's face appeared in the doorway, with a slightly guilty expression on her face.

- Lara? But...

She pushed her, impatient, went in and closed the door.

- I bet you did not expect to see me here, right? But you know that for me halfway across the world is like going for a walk. You can not escape me, and I expect a good explanation for this affront. You have not been educated to leave my house that way, as if I were your enemy, after all I've done for you. Unless everything has been thought by that lout of Kurtis! By the way, where is he? – she peered over Selma's shoulder - _Come here and face the consequences like a man should do!_

- Lara, please - Selma said with difficulty - look at you. Since some time ago you're having a terrible behavior. And stop shouting, because Kurtis is not here.

- What a surprise! - Lara laughed sarcastically.

Selma sighed:

- Lara, I beg you not to blame him. Everything was my idea ... well, mine and Winston's.

- I knew it! - muttered Lara. - What _on earth_ means this comedy, this blackmail?

- Lara, believe me, this has been the result of your attitude... I have much appreciation for you, but, admit it; you've been really... unbearable.

- And seeing you could stand me no more, you've gone this morning without telling me a word. Not a good way of doing things.

- We wanted you to reflect.

- You wanted...? But hey, it's a real plot! But anyway, I have not crossed Europe to go back with empty hands. What are you up to?

The Turkish did not respond. She went to the lounge and Lara followed her. There she could see she had the table covered with maps, drawings and templates.

- Watch... it's my material. My notes from Cappadocia's excavation. Remember? I was unable to resume my task. Eckhardt's attack... my Ahmad's death... I tore it all and destroyed my dreams and expectations. Then I had to flee because Gunderson's men would have killed me. Now is the time to resume the work that I left half-done.

Lara looked at her as she stroked the schemes of Cappadocia's stratigraphy, spellbound.

- Last night - continued Selma - Kurtis knocked on my door and told me he was leaving. He would not give me details, but he was furious... furious with you, Lara. You did very wrong with him... yes, I know it's not my business, but ... I really feel bad to see that. I asked him where he was going... especially because I knew that at dawn, you would hopelessly wonder about him, even though in theory you did not care of him at all from this time.

- How _well_ you know me.

Selma chose to ignore the ironic twang in Lara's words and continued:

- Kurtis took the Shards. To my surprise, he said he was willing to enter Eden.

- In... where?

The Turkish bent over her papers and took one, which tended to Lara. She took it and noted that it was a galleries' sketch of Nephilim's necropolis of Cappadocia.

- You see, Lara, the gallery that ends in a cross? The cross indicates that there we ran into a deep well whose bottom we fail to achieve. In that day, we believed that this well led to Eden.

- And Eden is...?

- How, Lara? Don't you know? Eden is the name that the Nephilim gave to their great city.

The silence weighed on the room for a moment, while Lara was still staring at the huge cross.

- Eden... – she murmured - So there was a city under the necropolis. Why haven't you told me about?

Selma was now red.

- Because I was ashamed of it. Ahmad and I believed in the existence of the city, but everyone laughed at us. In theory it was only a myth. But Kurtis told me it's real. He knows because... because his father had been there.

Lara briefly rolled the note and dropped it on the table.

- So Kurtis has asked you to help him accessing to the digging, as you are the archaeologist, and you have not wanted to miss the opportunity to confirm your ambitious theory. So you embark on this without even consulting me, _me_, Lara Croft! You know how much I love discovering lost places and you wanted me _out_ of that!

- I knew it would hurt you, Lara. So we left. We wanted you to follow us... well; _I_ wanted you to follow us. Not Kurtis. He's really angry with you, and he's right, Lara. – she said throwing her a reproachful look.

- I don't care about what Kurtis may think about me and of course it's _not_ your business. - she replied tartly - Seriously, how couldn't you tell me _anything?_

- You wouldn't have listened. Look at you, Lara! Look what you've become! You are beautiful, charming, brave and admirable, but you're destroying yourself. Why are you like that? Why are you doing _this_ to him?

Lara's eyes narrowed and after a moment, she whispered:

- You can't understand.

- Right. I don't think a single human being could understand you, Lara. - Selma sighed, and how to change the subject, she said - Would you be willing to help me in the excavation, Lara? You are the best in this matter, and I can't undertake alone the search for Eden. If you do not want to do it for _him_, at least do it for me.

She looked and looked once again cross on the map. Eden. A lost city in the bowels of the earth. Why not? Was not what she always wanted? Was not that her way of life, was not that for which she has born? She smiled.

- Of course.

Selma's sweet face brightened. Elated, she launched into Lara's neck and gave her a loud kiss on the cheek.

- I knew you wouldn't fail me! Eden, here we go!


	10. Chapter 9: The Great Goddess

**Chapter 9: The Great Goddess**

He was suffering. In a very disgusting way. And in vain.

Giselle bent over the patient's stretcher, as she adjusted the oxygen mask. Her forehead was beaded with sweat.

- Come on. - she muttered through clenched teeth - Breathe, stupid. Breathe. If you die you won't help me at all.

She felt a gentle breeze at her back; a huge fragrance filled the air, and immediately knew her daughter had arrived. She did not use the doors to enter and exit. It was easier and pleasant to her appearing and disappearing like the angel she was in fact.

The dying man on the stretcher widened his eyes when he saw Bathsheba. Letting out a groan, he tried to reach her.

- He thinks I'm an angel who comes to carry him to heaven. - murmured the beautiful, as she read his mind quickly – He prays to me to end his pain.

- Instead of so much poetry - the busy doctor growled, turning to the tray material - save his life. He's dying.

- Not true. - Bathsheba replied, smiling calmly. - He's _already _dead.

Giselle turned sharply. It was true. The man had been stiff, with staring eyes fixed on her daughter.

- You could have saved him. - she said, breathing a sigh of annoyance.

- Oh, mother - she smiled – you already made him suffer enough. In addition, you've a lot more patients, is not it?

- Yes, but he had already completed treatment, and now I have to start again. Next time do me a favor, okay? You know that your qualities are of great help to me.

She said nothing. Taking the ends of the sheet, she covered the body of the deceased. Giselle was taking notes furiously in her notebook.

Bathsheba knew the truth about Giselle's illegal experiments conducted with patients. They were true crimes against human rights. But the Cabal gave them coverage and financing. In fact, she was managing to reach farther than other scientists constrained by moral or legal scruples. The end justifies the means, that was the motto of Giselle and all those who collaborated with her. They suffered, their lives were sacrificed, yes, but progress was priceless. Besides, Bathsheba was not a perfect proof that those experiments had a fair and beautiful end? Among her people, Giselle was obeyed like a respected general or a religious leader. No one doubted of her word and who did that was not worthy of being there.

But Bathsheba knew. Giselle had long been asked her to cure or extend life of her patients. She could, as Karel could. A touch of her fingers, a puff of her breath, a kiss from her lips and the pain vanished temporarily, wounds closed or gangrenes stopped their draining. She had the power, since she inherited it from his father. Why not to use it?

But Bathsheba, in spite of everything, knew. And what she knew was that she was becoming an instrument for her mother. At first she had consented. She was fascinated to see that power that came from her inside, which she barely could control. But soon she got tired. So that's why she had left the man die. She was the Angel of Death that he had asked her out.

She was tired, very tired.

She turned around ready to leave, but Giselle took her arm and went out into the hallway.

- Have you found out something about the Shards? – she questioned, commanding her giddy blonde hair, very short.

- The British explorer had one of them. But when I went to remove it, because as you know she did not want to sell it, it had already changed of hands. She has been really clever, but it's only a matter of time. The other one is with the mother of the Lux Veritatis... but when I went to steal it she attacked and hurt me. I had to retire.

- You should have killed them. Both women.

Bathsheba paused and gave her a cold stare.

- Even if you are my mother, I _don't_ let you tell me what to do. Lara Croft is not my goal and that Navajo woman is still useful. I will not kill them ... yet.

- Whatever. But try them not to become a problem for us. You know something about the Lux Veritatis?

The beautiful stopped. Her green eyes fixed on the distance away.

- That's… strange. – she muttered - I can not see him in the distance. He's like having an aura around him to protect him ... which hides him to my view. As if he knew that I'm looking for him.

- That bastard can not hide for long. - said the scientist, categorically. – You can't imagine how great it's my desire to find him. - and smiled with a cruel smile.

Bathsheba turned and took her mother's face in her gently hands. Face to face they seemed sisters... two beautiful twins, so alike and yet so different.

- Calm down, mother. - she said, stroking her forehead .- Hatred and desire of revenge are consuming you. And then you won't get what you want.

They heard a cough. They turned and saw there Gertrude, dressed as usual up and down with her long black dress and veil, like a black widow.

- Blessed Daughter - she said to Bathsheba - would you want to accompany this poor old lady?

When Bathsheba took her arm, the old lady and the young scientific exchanged a cold stare.

(…)

- Beware - Bathsheba whispered - my mother never loved you, and now even more, given the attention you lavish on me.

- Oh, she's only jealous. She has always been jealous. When her sister lived she was jealous of her success, and when Eckhardt was still alive she was jealous of him because he monopolized Karel's attention. And when both died she still was jealous of anyone who approached to speak with Karel.

They went down the hallway and slowly approached the area of the chapel. To that place only just came the old Gertrude to pray and no one else entered.

Gertrude worshiped the Great Goddess. That aroused great laughter in Giselle and the rest of the team, for whom the Great Goddess was but a distant and lost ancient myth. They believed in science, in the power of Bathsheba.

The altar was prepared towards the East, where it was born the Great Goddess. Her effigy was chairing the altar. Tall, beautiful and naked, escorted by her two owls, holding in her hands the exhilarating symbols as her feet sank into the ground like claws.

Lilith. The first woman, and also the queen of all demons.

- I was young when I was started by Master Eckhardt in the cult of the Goddess. - Gertrude whispered as she took a box of matches. - You will be surprised to know that all Nephilim worshipped Lilith. They believed that she was the mother of them all, since she had shared the bed with an angel. Now only I among all of us keep the worship.

Bathsheba had heard that story hundreds of times, but she listened patiently. Gertrude, despite repeating herself as the dotty old she was, always provided her with some valuable information. Not surprisingly she was the oldest member of the Cabal, after the death of the two Masters.

Smiling, she approached the old lady and took the matchbox out of her hands. Then, leaning on each of the candles, she lit the fuse blowing slightly above. Gertrude looked at with wonder.

- Don't look at me like that, aunt. - she laughed - This is just a trick of children.

- And thinking that your mother and the others laugh at me because I still revere the Goddess! She is whom you look like. You are her child; I am convinced, as were all Nephilim born of her. They, your mother and the others are idiots. They and all their stupid experiments.

- I was born from a _stupid experiment_. - she said smiling.

- You were born of Karel's seed! And he was one of the Ancients, perhaps born in the Second or Third Generation. Lilith's blood runs through your veins, Blessed Daughter! You're divine, you are a goddess. The power that protects you proclaims what I say.

She smiled. Nothing disturbed the sweetness of her expression. Since she had been a girl, in those two years, the old Gertrude had brought with her and had repeated over and over that. She had started her in the cult of Lilith, the Mother. And time and again she had shown her that she was more than the beautiful and perfect creature emerged from a risky experiment.

Gertrude came up and gripped her arm. Only she and Giselle could touch her. This was prescribed and orderly.

- Listen. Your mother is crazy. She uses you as if you were a Messiah who came to heal and smooth the road. Healing wounds, lengthen life, only to have see continued her disgusting experiments. The answer is not science. The road to Paradise will not be found cutting members and filling vases with fluid samples. The road to Paradise is you, Blessed Daughter.

She turned abruptly and walked to the altar, before which she knelt and prayed quietly. The blurred figure of Lilith was mixed with the wisps of smoke streamed from the candles.

Free from the old woman's speech, Bathsheba turned ready to leave the chapel, but then Gertrude spoke again:

- Don't you know what your mother is preparing for you?

She stood still.

- Oh, you don't know because you don't want to. You can find out what pleases you, Blessed Daughter. You just have to want it. But if you don't want to know, you really can't know.

Bathsheba took a deep breath, ordering herself to be patient with the senile ravings of this woman.

- What about my mother's plans?

- There are not very different from Eckhardt and Karel's plans. They wanted to raise again the Upper Race. Only Giselle succeeded, the result is you. And you, blessed child, you will live forever. But with only one member can not be to revive a race, right? We need more members... we need... children.

The cheeks of the beautiful lit.

- You're wrong, aunt. My mother promised me...

- Yes. She vowed not to match you with any mortal, so that your blood would not be tainted. But you know you need to procreate, daughter. There is no race without begetting. Maybe... Perhaps she's looking for creating a new Nephilim, a companion for you. Would you like so, Blessed Daughter? – she concluded with a sarcastic twang.

The desired effect was fulfilled. Bathsheba went furious.

- A partner... a brother... no!

- Come on, my child. There is nothing wrong with incest. Remember that demons were born of cosmogonist incest, which in the end...

- Shut up!

She stopped. Her eyes burned with green fire. She, who was sweet as a caress, when angry could arouse genuine terror.

- Only I'm Lilith's Daughter. I'm just the way to Paradise. There will be nobody more than me. I am the last that will live forever. There it can be no other one.

Gertrude smiled.

- Tell her. You can sweep her experiments with your hand, destroy her theory. You can bring us the Paradise. We do not need the Upper Race, Blessed Daughter. You fulfilled all the prophecies. There will be no revival of the Nephilim, but way to Paradise. But... ah! Make your stubborn mother to understand it.

The beautiful now was pensive.

- I know what I should do. My mother must not know anything. I'll intend to find the Shards, as I found the Periapt. And there's still something I have to find that responds to the name of the Great Goddess.

- Yes, dear, yes ... - murmured the old lady - we need it, we need the Scepter. With it you can open up the road.

The Scepter...


	11. Chapter 10: The putrid pit

**Chapter 10: The putrid pit**

Selma spent two weeks at the phone to get access rights. In theory she had withdrawn and all were surprised seeing her spirit revived after two years of mourning. More than one would resist at her, but it was enough for Lara to intervene. There's no force on Earth which can resist Lara Croft's charisma.

In all none of both saw Kurtis. It seemed that the earth had swallowed him up, nothing unusual for him after all.

- Lara – the Turkish girl murmured nervously as she reviewed for the umpteenth time a kilometric list with everything they need - we need logistical support.

- Logistic... support?

- Yes, we need a technical support. Someone who knows how to tinker with computers and can get in touch via Internet or phone within seconds. Cappadocia is an isolated wilderness, you know, where we will not have many luxuries... I need an expert in computers and communications that keep us in touch with the rest of the world. Ivanoff has offered to be our remote library if we need information of the Nephilim (in these two years he has grown to become an expert...) and of course, as there is no way out of Bran for him, we must overcome the barrier... well – she concluded, hysterical - Do you know someone who can lend us a favor?

Lara smiled while ago, inspired.

- Sure. I know the perfect person.

- Who?

- It's called Zip.

- Zip? That's not a name!

- True, and he's also a little clown. But he will do. Trust me.

(…)

After two weeks, despite Selma's despair, everything was ready.

Zip appeared when they were about to leave, arriving late as usual. He got off the bus from a jump, carrying his new laptop, some backpack and nonchalantly chewing gum. Selma was startled to see him:

- Where did you from get this guy? The Bronx _guetto?_

But as he approached Zip gladly said:

- Well, well, Lara! How long! It seems yesterday when we screw up old Von Croy with the Iris robbing, eh? And you as beautiful as ever!

With an intolerable brash, the black boy smacked two sonorous kisses on Lara's cheeks and then turned to look curiously at Selma:

- Concerning beautiful women, what are my eyes looking at? Where from has emerged this adorable _harem_ odalisque?

- My name is Selma Al-Jazeera, and from today I'm your boss - she replied sharply, outraged by his so brazenly attitude.

- Wow, wow, wow, the girl has her personality! I will be happy to serve you, beautiful Selma - he said, kissing her hand slyly.

- I told you he was a clown. - Lara said moments later, while carrying around in the jeep.

Selma did not respond. When she looked at her, Lara found in surprise, that she was as red as a tomato.

(…)

It was the second time Lara visited Cappadocia, but its beauty hit her like the first time her eyes were over those impossible rock formations, those mounds rubbed off by time. Selma sat back and closed her eyes, remembering... unfortunately, not everything to remember was nice.

- So this is Cappadocia. - Zip muttered, while chewing gum, from the back seat - And here we will have coverage?

- Hope so. - Lara said, turning the wheel to avoid a cow that had been cast on the road - People live here, after all.

The excavation was terribly neglected. When they arrived, Selma rushed to air all barracks accommodation. Lara came to the entrance of the cemetery, expecting to see the door barred. But to her surprise, the tunnel was open.

- I've been taking a look.

Lara whirled. There _he_ was, lying in his shiny motorbike. How had she not seen him before? His secrecy was too much irritating.

- Selma was right. – he continued, puffing on his cigar – It was enough for us to disappear to see you running after us.

She was determined not to let him irritate her, and said as if casually:

- Where were you?

- Why, _milady?_ Did you miss me?

Tight-lipped, Lara held an angry response. He would have to work harder to provoke her. Ostentatiously giving back, she prepared to enter the tunnel, when Zip's cry stopped her:

- Wow, Kurt! What the hell are you doing here?

Lara turned around, shocked. Zip had trotted down the slope and warmly greeted Kurtis, who was also stunned to see him there.

- Glad to see that you haven't been eaten by any Gorgon! How's life?

- Wait, wait. - interrupted her, dazed - Did you know each other?

- That's why I was going to ask. - Kurtis muttered, looking from one to another.

- Who is there who doesn't know the beautiful Lara Croft? I had the honor of working with her a while... You are lucky girl to have a guy like Kurt! Now we are safe hahaha...

She did not stay to hear the end of the sentence. Furious, she entered the gallery, leaving them behind.

_So they know each other! Just what I needed!_

(…)

Soon the camp was established on the dusty plain at the foot of the rock formations of Cappadocia own. A team of workers trained by volunteer students and young practitioners, masterfully conducted by Selma, were responsible for removing the land and clear the way for Lara and her men. In total they were a group of over twenty people, including Zip, Selma, Kurtis and Lara. The hacker, convinced that all he had to do was spend the day aside in front of his notebook screen, with amazement found also he was also asked to dig.

- But what am I doing that? - protested the boy - I am a computer programmer, not an archaeologist, field work is not mine...

- Zip, shut up. - answered either who was hearing him.

The first task was to clear the tunnels and galleries of the necropolis, which had been sealed because of the close of the previous excavation, and try to reach the legendary city that was down. The city of the Nephilim, where the Lux Veritatis had fought and defeated Eckhardt once.

The first weeks were almost exclusively for the team of volunteers. Lara, who could not stand being idle, oversaw all work together with Selma until everyone got used to having two rather than one patron. Kurtis was considerably helpful because his chunky constitution. The only vague to regret there was Zip, who spent many days having fun with his new laptop until Selma found an interesting task for him, consisting of carrying buckets of earth to sift them into a nearby creek.

At the third week they were able to access the first burial chamber. Lara stroked those concave niches and said to her companion:

- Should not we remove them?

- It's too expensive - Selma sighed - And I'm not sure this is safe... I prefer not to risk for if we have problems then.

The volunteers watched in awe the bare bodies and some took notes excitedly.

Lara said a nearby tunnel and said:

- Look, this corridor was where I met Kurtis after visiting you. And here we laid the trap for the Gunderson's men.

Selma laughed, remembering the details of that event.

- And where we find manticores. – a grave voice told behind her.

Lara's smile faded.

- Do you think those bugs are still here?

- It's very likely - Kurtis said – and that's why it's better that Lara and I go together, just in case. – he added looking at Selma.

Once again, Lara was upset. Although Selma was officially the leader of the excavation, it was more than assumed it was Lara who made the decisions there, and _not_ Kurtis. However, she bit her tongue to hold a rough rebuke, since Kurtis, after all, had been sensible.

(…)

Three days after an excavator announced they had located a tunnel that ended abruptly in a black abyss where no light beam reached. I correspond to the map mark, and it was time for Lara to make her action.

- Are you sure? - Selma murmured, helping Lara to adjust the last harnesses to descend through the hole, while some volunteers were illuminating them.

She said that because from that well went off such horrible odor of putrefaction that no one wanted to imagine what could be falling apart down there. But things like that could not scare Lara.

- Don't worry. - she said - We may be on the walls of the city. No time to lose.

Kurtis, who was also fitted, was squatting on the edge of the hole, which caused great anxiety to all presents. They did not know that Kurtis could fall from great heights without injuring himself, but even if they had known, they would not believe such thing.

Lara finally stood up, satisfied, and cast her eyes around, smiling at young workers pressed against the tunnel wall and covering their nose and mouth with cloths, unable to bear the stench of the grave to which she was more than used. Zip, distinguished among them, seemed about to faint.

- Don't you want me luck? - she said sarcastically.

- With the company you lead, you're more than safe, baby. - he replied in the same tone.

Lara groaned at the inconvenience of the comment. Fortunately, Kurtis did not seem to hear that. He was staring into the blackness of the pit, as if the strong smell did not bother him.

At the end, she had her reasons to go down to the city, but what were Kurtis' reasons? What he was looking down there? Fighting the creatures of the deep? No, of course, he was as tired of that as anybody could be in his place.

Lara vowed to find out that without seeming too interested in him. However, the explorer was still her, and with this comforting thought, she smiled self-sufficiency to all presents before descending into the pit. Kurtis climbed down parallel to her, and finally lost sight of their tense faces: Zip, Selma and the rest at the edge of the pit.

Meanwhile, the smell of death became more intense.

(…)

The decline lasted only ten minutes. When the rope ladder was over, both were drenched in sweat and felt twinges in the joints. The smell then it was so pervasive that they had an upset sensation on the stomach... and a strange rumor reached their ears. A succession of whistles and clicks, the gurgling and all sorts of nasty whispers that made them sweat to dry on the back.

- What the hell is that? - Lara gasped - Manticores?

- No. - said Kurtis - Of course not... it sounds like... bugs.

- Bugs?

If she dad not been so tired, Lara would have laughed. Taking a flare from her bag, she lit a touch and bent down...

- Fuuuuuuuuuuck!

In fact, they were bugs. A lumpy, sticky mass of throbbing, comprising thousands of tiny creatures that crawled and walked, a sea of nasty bugs and worms that feed on rotting mass of... of several bodies.

- Oh, God! - Lara gasped, containing an arcade.

Everything else seemed in slow motion. She saw Kurtis jumping from the ladder and landing on _that_. He sank to his knees with a nasty gurgle. Like waiting for a new body on which primed, a cloud of insects began to climb up his legs. But he, looking at her with some irony, reached over and above the rustle of insects heard him mutter:

- Come on, _milady_. We do not have all day.

She saw herself taking his hand and jump to land in that quagmire. Almost immediately she began to notice the movement of hundreds of tiny paws, claws and suckers nasty creatures that climbed up her legs and clung to her thighs. And the rotten stench that grew steadily. She contained another arcade.

Clutching his arm, she tried to advance in the midst of this putrid pit... it was clear that at the pit were human bodies. But there was one that was much more terrible. In the dim light of the flare, her eyes wandered around. The pit was huge and there were not dozens, but hundreds of corpses in various stages of decomposition. She saw maggots squirming in empty sockets of skulls and mosquitoes sucking fleshy jelly eyes staring into space with dismay; she saw cockroaches running around between the ribs of empty rib cages and huge moths flapping between other rotting bodies' lips.

That was too much for her. She bended over herself and vomited.

- Lara! – she heard Kurtis murmuring in her ear - We are sinking. You have to move!

Now that putrid mass arrived to their waist, and Lara did not want to think about the noticeable slugs that were slipping into her clothes. She raised her pale face and saw, far away, an opening near the top of the pit. Drawing strength from their own weakness, they dragged away tossing chunks of dead and spiders from their arms and face. It could not be far away ... could not ... they had almost it there...

Kurtis was the first to feel the vibration beneath his feet. Of course, the thousand and one vibration of the wings of flies, mosquitoes and insects that had down there had distracted him, but now he was sure there was something big under their feet, beneath the mass of piled up bodies.

He moved faster, pulling Lara to that opening, almost throwing furiously away those hundreds of bodies that blocked their road. The output was too high for them, half-submerged in that crap, could reach it. Before Lara could protest, Kurtis grabbed her waist and lifted her up until she reached the opening and grabbed the frame of it.

Then the creature crawling under their feet attacked.

(…)

Lara, hanging over the edge of the opening, was trying to pull herself up when Kurtis noted that the mass of corpses and insects grew and grew, swelling like a boil to burst giving way to a long tentacle of an octopus-like, which directly attacked Lara.

Like a slap in the face, it brutally beat her, picking her from the opening frame and throwing her several feet backwards, to finish landing on her back over the putrid mass. Like waiting for that moment, another tentacle emerged between the bones covered with maggots and surrounded Lara's waist and pushing down, began to sink her.

Lara's screams pierced the walls. Twisting like an eel, she tried to reach at least one gun holstered on her hips, but it was slippery from slugs' mucus and she could not grasp it well.

Kurtis could not move, as he was half sunk to his chest, but it was enough to take out the Churigai and sank its blade in the bulbous flesh of another tentacle that had grown to his left; for the creature, angry, tore away and threw him to the other side of the room, only this time he struck the wall and fell on a pile of aching bones.

He got up and ran as fast as he could towards Lara, whose head only was visible, and if she had not gone down at all was because her squirming, screaming and kicking the thing, making it difficult to suction her.

Kurtis' arms sank at her side to hold her by the shoulders and pulled her with all his strength, trying to remove her. Between him pulling her up and _that thing_ pulling her down, Lara was sure they were going to split her in two pieces. However, the possibility of sinking into the disgusting mass filled her with panic. She looked at Kurtis' face, covered in sweat, and she had the impression that the man was struggling with something more than his simple physical forces.

Finally, the tentacle seemed to loose and give a little less pressure on her. Flipping, Kurtis took her out.

- Run!

She did not need to be asked twice. Lara darted back into the opening, but then the whole pit was stirred and began to sink, dragging corpses and bugs with it. Lara could see, on the corner of her eye what was happening and let out a cry of horror.

By the side of the camera appeared a series of huge, sharp blades that she quickly identified as teeth, a row of huge teeth began to raise left and right while the mass of bodies was slowly sinking.

The creature who had been dozing under their own victims was now closing its huge jaws to swallow what it could not before its long slumber and it was going to swallow them too. It would not let hem go.

Kurtis understood very well this, since as every time he had faced creatures like those _he had heard exactly what the creature thought_. And this creature, satisfied with corpses, was going to devour them by pure hatred and resentment for having sense them jogging in its jaws, and although it was tired of rot it was going to gobble them.

He felt the current of its violent thoughts and fought against them. In silence, he confronted the creature, using only the mind and his ability to speak with the thought, and tried to control the thing, that tireless, intended to devour Lara at first.

_Let her go_, he ordered with all his might. _Forget her. He's not for you. Let her go! Leave her!_

He felt the wrath of the creature, its resentment. His will, human and superhuman at the same time, was stronger than the monster. The tentacles relaxed about Lara's legs and released her. She turned to look at him, surprised. But moments later, she again addressed to the blessed opening, which could reach this time using one of those rough teeth of stool.

She reached the edge and finally climbed to it, sweaty and exhausted. Already in the exit tunnel, turned and saw her partner also trying to reach out ... unnecessarily, since the creature was very willing to let out a victim, but not both. Two tentacles had clung to Kurtis and dragged him down, away from salvation.

- Kurtis! - Lara shouted.

He looked at her and shook his head with exhaustion. Suddenly, it was for her as if she was back in Prague at the Strahov, and the creature was Boaz and Kurtis himself was again about to save her life by making her escape while he stayed... to die.

Mechanically, she grabbed the shotgun that was still attached to her back (how she could forget it?) and controlling the tremor of her arms, pointed with accuracy to one of the tentacles that dragged Kurtis, and fired.

The ball sank into the viscous meat and contracted the entire limb. There was a high-pitched squeal that seemed to emanate from the throat of the thing hidden under the rotting mass, and the tentacles let go Kurtis. Lara did not stop now. She shot two, three, four times, until Kurtis was free and calling back to his trusty weapon, which had been nailed to the wall, broke through cutting the re-emerging tentacles, reaching the opening.

Now the huge jaws were nearly closed and, to close the process that monster had developed slowly. Kurtis jumped up, pushing with all his might, and even injured his leg with the edge of one of those teeth. But he was safe. Lara grabbed his proffered hand and raised him to be dropped next to her.

Down in the pit putrid, the two rows of teeth were closed, his mouth crushing huge now, with an awful sound, the remains of bones, flesh rotting and insects. Pale, Lara stared a long time that horror, until Kurtis gently pushed her away and retreated to a hidden corner of the tunnel, where they rested on the wall and rested.

- What was that? - she murmured, after a while, touching her back, looking for a slimy caterpillar that had been drained by the neck.

Kurtis leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes. His leg was bleeding through his slightly torn pants and some flies came to rest on the wound, but he did not seem to notice.

- I do not know, Lara. I can not know everything.

She leaned to the flies, with a frown. Then she twisted, angry.

- God... I think I have the body full of bugs.

- If I tell you where I have one... - Kurtis whispered, then laughed as if this was very funny.

Then he fell asleep, exhausted more for the mental effort in dealing with that creature that for physical fatigue. Before losing consciousness, he heard Lara talking to herself:

- It can not be... some bodies were very recent ... people who had been here recently ... How can ... how they got here?


	12. Chapter 11: The crucified's way

**Chapter 11: The crucified's way**

The passage's mouth was low and narrow so they had to go squatting. Kurtis was too big and hurt his arms and legs but he did not complain. As they arrived to an extension, his elbows and knees were raw, under his tattered clothes. In part it was because he had to go the first, being bigger than Lara, to clear the tunnel and to facilitate access to Lara. Of course she did not bother to thank him. The scene of the putrid grave had been left behind and she was again the cold and proud Lara, dignified in her permanent irritation against him.

A blast of cold air caressed their sweaty faces. That disturbed Lara.

- There must be something there before. – she said as advanced towards the end of the tunnel where it came from a strange light.

- Be careful. - murmured Kurtis, who was sucking a bloody knuckle.

Lara reached the edge of the hollow; looked... and felt ecstatic.

- Oh, my God. - murmured.

Before them stretched a vast city built in a cave whose boundaries could not be seen. Tall, slender buildings were spread over different levels, rocks and plains, but none reached the floor, where it was run by waterfalls and water furrows to converge in a huge lake to the gates of the city. Some buildings have been excavated in the rock and descended emerging from the walls and to liaise with the other neighborhoods with bridges and circular staircases. The city should have been dark, but was in fact glowing with a ghostly light which appeared to come from the waters, having its greater focus on the lake.

Lara had been in beautiful and vast places, but she had never seen something so immense and solemn. The whole city was quiet and the only sound was the murmur of the waters. She shuddered.

- It's wonderful. - she mused, closing her eyes.

- I'd say it's creepy. - said Kurtis, who did not seem impressed by that dark and placid beauty. - Lives up to its name.

- Eden? I think not. Eden was a garden...

She got serious when she heard Kurtis deep laughing. She turned to face him. His blue eyes sparkled with fun.

- Ah, yes, _milady_... they called it _Eden_. An euphemism, is not it? We, however, we called it _Tenebra_.

- You...?

- The Order. The Lux Veritatis.

Tenebra. An appropriate name for this city of lights and shadows.

- Well, Tenebra. - Lara muttered - Or whatever your name is. Here I go.

(…)

- Finally, as I said, she should have leaded my communicator. - muttered Zip, irritably - With this would be in touch all the time, as when we sacked the old Von Croy's company. But she did not want, of course. "_I like to do the job alone"_, _"No, I don't want you all the while chattering in my ear"_ - he said, imitating the clear voice of Lara - In the end, it's her problem. Damn her and her hobbies.

- Well, they might want to have some... intimacy. - suggested Selma, who was examining planes near his desk.

- Oh, sure? - he muttered again - To hold hands with Kurt?

- Maybe. – the Turkish girl murmured in a mysterious tone that made the boy turn towards her.

Selma was sitting on a stool, smiling as her eyes passed through the map. Her long hair was held by a yellow bandana on her head, but what was left fell loose in dark locks behind her face. So, dressed in old jeans and a shirt knotted at the waist, she was more attractive than any attired woman. Zip realized he had been watching her wrapped up for a while and hastened to add:

- What do you mean?

She raised her very black eyes and smiled, unable to resist gossiping a little.

- I mean, Zip, that there are many things you don't know about those two.

He looked stunned, his expression totally stupid, which she attributed to his confusion on what she had just told him.

- Wait, princess... you're telling me ... have I lost a soap opera?

_That is, Zip, keep it up. Masking perfectly, kid_, he congratulated himself.

Selma rose again her sight... and then her smile faded from her face. Zip whirled and to his horror, he found a person dressed as a mountaineer who was pointing a gun in his very face.

- Rise. – he ordered - Take off your headset and let it on the keyboard.

Zip obeyed while another armed man forced Selma to stand up. The boy rushed to stand beside her.

- Who the hell are you?

- That's not your bloody business, fucking _negro_. You, - said the first, pointing to Selma - who is responsible for this site?

- I am. - she replied, trying to keep her voice firm.

The gunman looked at her incredulously. He did not expect this frail-looking young woman to be authority there, but he shrugged.

- Good. Now call them all and ordered them to get into their tents and barracks. There are many of us here, and you wouldn't want to see a slaughter, right?

Selma shook her head. She appeared to be calm but her heart was pumping wildly in her chest.

- Agreed. Do as I say and nobody will be hurt. Otherwise, we'll kill them all, starting with this one. – he concluded, pointing to Zip.

(…)

Lara felt the sweat froze in her skin when she just fell to the ground by a rope. The road to the city stretched beyond a long way and it remained to cross the huge stone bridge that separated the lake from the walls around the city.

But something made her stop. They had not seen since the height at which they had beheld the city at first, but now they had it before their eyes.

Along the wide road leading to the city, on both sides of the road, the road was strewn with crosses.

And of those crosses hung humans.

It had been Romans' custom to crucify slaves and criminals out on the roads and travel between cities. It had even been said that the crosses of the damned in the revolt of Spartacus had spread from Rome to the end of Italy. Now, that dreadful picture was repeated at the gates of this tremendous city.

It was long ago, however, that these unfortunates had died. Of the timbers just hanged skeletons covered with some shreds of clothing and dry skin. They were not the juicy bodies that had been rotting in the pit. Those beings had long been nailed there.

Again, the question was repeated, silent, on the lips of Lara. _What horrible comedy is this? Who are these people?_

- Kurtis...? – she muttered, turning to look at her companion.

But he could not hear. He was at the foot of a cross, watching in silence the dislocated skull's jaw, contorted in a grotesque grimace of horror.

She called him again. Then she was afraid what she read in his face. He was pale and seemed upset.

- This is what I came for, Lara. – he whispered amid the great silence - I knew they were all dead, but I did not expect to find them so.

- What? Who? - she asked, confused.

A bitter smile crossed Kurtis' face, and then he said he pointed to the title nailed on the cross' head.

There was a written word. A surname. _Montsaint_. And next to it, the sharpened anchor, Lux Veritatis' emblem. Lara then understood.

- The Lux Veritatis? – she exclaimed - Are they, Kurtis? The last ones...?

- Yes - he said. His quiet voice had a point of tension - A lot of people which I knew as a child. Look, there's Clapton. And there, the old Bartory. And Longtom, and that ones next to him are his wife, and that child there...

Kurtis began to cross the row of crosses while reciting the names on the dusty posters. He had met almost everyone. Those unhappy had been for him parents and teachers, those women had also been his family, those children had played with him sporadically ever...

Lara followed him, noticing her body rigid with horror. She could not understand what kind of ceremony, macabre ritual of bloody revenge had led to that genocide. Those empty skulls, only identifiable by the titles, had been living, throbbing, had been his people. And now they were all dead and he was the only living. What could she say? Was she able to feel that void and dull pain, the pain of being virtually alone on Earth, the pain of losing all your people?

She bit her lip. Suddenly, she felt guilty. Who was she to judge him? Why was necessary to contemplate that horror to realize that there were deeper causes than her mere selfishness? How could she treat him so bad, if she had never felt that sorrow, that loss?

They walked in silence the way to the city. Kurtis's voice trailed off soon, sore and exhausted, and only moved her lips, saying one by one hundred and twenty name on those signs. One hundred and twenty crosses. One hundred and twenty lives uprooted. Neither women nor children were respected.

At one point she heard again Kurtis' soft voice.

- This is Eckhardt's masterpiece. For this reason I left the Legion to take revenge. He commanded to kill them all. I had always suspected that they could be here. And I...

He turned and looked at his companion with the same bitter face.

- I should be with them. Both me and my mother. They left two crosses to nail. We escaped. And it was thanks to him.

With a weary gesture, he pointed the last cross, the largest, which stood beside the stone bridge, and along the ramparts of the city.

Lara came slowly. The man who had died on that cross had apparently been strong and high, by the constitution of the bones. She squinted to read the title over his head, and then, she went back in horror.

In that banner, the name carved was unmistakable:

KONSTANTIN

_Konstantin. Konstantin. Konstantin._ Lara repeated that name several times to make sure she pronounced it correctly, that was _that_ name and not another. Finally, she turned slowly to look with deep sorrow at Kurtis.

But he was not looking at her. He had raised her eyes to the skull's empty sockets.

For the first time in many years, father and son looked on each other.

(…)

- Sit down. - ordered the man, pushing Selma to sit in a chair. Zip was a little behind, sitting in a corner of the tent.

After making the scared volunteers thrown in their tents, a mob of armed troops had taken and cordoned off the camp. They were not mercenaries or criminals, however, because her mountain outfit was refined and impeccable after all. Selma was terrified and neither she nor Zip had mentioned Lara or Kurtis. They were their only hope now.

The guy that watched for them seemed to have a lot of authority there. But it was not the leader because he said:

- Within no more time Monteleone will came you will tell him what is this roost, huh, _ragazza?_

Of course, that accent! They were Italian. _Mafiosi_, perhaps? But what could they want from them?

The hitman was looking again at her and Selma shuddered. He had not stopped to give her a continuum looking, as if he had not seen a woman for months.

- Wow, wow, you're too pretty to be Turkish. - he whispered- How old are you?

Selma did not respond.

- You're a bit rude. But hey, you're about twenty-something. Archaeologist, right? I understood that your people will put veils and holds you at home.

Upon receipt of a new wave of silence, the killer walked up to her. With a slug smile he flipped the yellow handkerchief, and Selma's black hair spilled around her shoulders. Enthralled, he took a long strand of hair and took it up the nose to inhale its aroma. Selma jerked her head and slipped her soft hair between his fingers.

The bully growled:

- You're not being very loving. Come on, collaborate.

He grabbed her roughly by the chin, his fingers sinking into Selma's opaque, soft skin, forcing her to face him. She struggled but then he increased the pressure on her jaw, and went to kiss her.

- Leave her alone!

The man looked up. Zip was up and watched him angrily.

- Sit back again, you asshole, or I'll break the top of your brains!

He slid his fingers through her neck and grabbed Selma tightly, digging his fingers into her warm hair. She tried to break free again, but his captor raised her from her chair with a sudden jerk of hair that drew a cry of pain, and violently pulled her towards him.

- I said leave her alone, man! - Zip screamed, and jumped on the man who, caught by surprise, let the girl go and staggered backwards. Zip pushed him again and knocked him down.

But the other was an expert fighter and within seconds he straightened up and mobbed him a hard kick to the boy in the stomach, which knocked him against a table. Drawing his gun, pointed directly at his head and roared:

- Say goodbye!

Selma gave a cry of horror.

- What the hell is going on here?

That elegant voice left everything on hold. The canvas of the tent was up and had entered a man of delicate constitution, dressed in brown and with gray hair. However, he was not very old, would be about fifty, and had a proud aristocratic bearing.

Seeing him, the gunman kept the gun and immediately saluted.

- _Benvenutto signore._

The other looked at Zip, half knocked to the ground, writhing in pain, and the disheveled young Turkish woman with one arm protectively surrounding him. It was enough to deduce what had happened.

- What were you doing, Sciarra? – he said coldly - I gave orders not to harm anybody.

- _Signore_, I...

- I know you too much, my friend. The next time you want a woman, go to Maddalena and she will provide you. But this _signorina_ under my protection, okay?

The so-called Sciarra nodded, frowning, and left the store. The other turned his gaze to them calmly and said with gentle courtesy:

- _Mile scusi_, sorry. I hope your friend is right. – he said, looking at Zip, which was barely incorporated - I'm Daniele Monteleone, and you are..?

- Selma Al-Jazeera. - she said hoarsely, helping Zip to get up.

- Mmmm... but Al-Jazeera is a genuinely Arabic surname, and you're Turkish.

- My father was Saudi - she murmured, surprised - What do you want from us? Why are your men here?

He did not answer right away. He looked around puzzled, and then asked the question that troubled Selma:

- So where's _signorina_ Croft?


	13. Chapter 12: Two intertwined lives

**Chapter 12: Two intertwined lives**

The crucified's way had been left away. Lara wanted to say something to Kurtis. But no words came out from her. She had suggested burying the bodies, and immediately it sounded preposterous. Where to dig one hundred twenty-one graves? Then she asked if he wanted to bury his father.

- Why? - he sighed with abandonment - They nailed him there. He died as he lived. No tomb would do better justice to him than that cross.

Lara looked at him in horror. She was sure Kurtis was losing his mind. But she didn't insist. They had to go on, however. Although a shiver down her spine with only imagine what could be there before that was more horrible than the putrid pit or the crucified's way.

The city no longer seemed so beautiful. Yet there it was, wrapped in a stunning beauty. May nevertheless be Tenebra not the most appropriate name, because although the buildings were carved into black rock, the light-blue water tinted everything in silver. Overall, the whole city seemed to glow like liquid crystal. The architecture was fine and elegant, sinuous and its former inhabitants.

They had left the bridge and reach the door of the walls, when Lara had noticed an inscription carved on the lintel of the entrance. To lift Kurtis from his melancholy reverie, she had asked him to translate that Nephilim language which only he knew.

- It says only: Until Paradise returned to us.

It had a lot of sense, argued Lara. Until they could return to heaven, Eden would be their home. Kurtis instead shook his head and said:

- I think not. The Nephilim are the offspring of fallen angels. They had no paradise to return to, as they had never left it.

Lara shrugged. They passed through the doors, leaving the bridge decorated with huge statues of angels, each with its name, as he was translating Kurtis: Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel, and the condemned Samael, the Lucifer of the biblical tradition.

The lake shone blue and light blinded them. Lara was leaning over the edge of the bridge to examine that luminous water until Kurtis, pulling gently her with his arm, reminded her that she was leaning too much.

Once inside the city streets, Lara was forced not to go building by building in order to not spend more time than expected. Everything was beautiful but empty, dust and cobwebs covered all the interiors. Tenebra, or Eden, had long become a dead city. Nothing and no one was there.

Lara, followed by Kurtis like an automaton, had arrived in a large square. At the streets were arranged circular canals that conducted the water and formed a ring around the square.

- Sure! - she suddenly exclaimed, excited - Water is not an ornament or a pool of urban living: it is, quite simply, a lighting system for life. No candles or lamps, or anything that serves to turn on light, water was what enlightened them!

Her partner did not respond. In the end, after all, who could think of Nephilim's lighting systems after leaving behind a veritable graveyard of slaughtered? But Lara was still primarily exploratory, and that fascinated her.

She leaned back on the stream, determined to take a sample. She took the bottle from her pack and poured it without hesitation. Then she filled it with that luminous water and kept it happy.

CRAC!

She turned, startled, and then saw that Kurtis had disappeared. How she could not keep him in sight? But what was that sound?

Pulling out a gun, she walked into a large building nearby, that the same could be a temple, a marketplace, or a mansion.

She hit the door frame and looked inside but saw only darkness and a silver flash in the background.

What had cracked could not be wood because the whole city was made of rock and not a single piece of wood, any doors or windows or glass could be found there. Only stone.

Lara walked along the wall on the inside of the room, heading for the silver flash. She groped her backpack again and lit a flare.

The circular room was empty, except for the beautiful statue of a female angel. This, unlike the male archangels on the bridge, was naked and had long hair loose, huge wings and thin arms risen. Despite being completely carved in marble (and its whiteness contrasted with the blackness of the walls) it seemed about to take flight, with only one foot rested on a pedestal and leaned gracefully forward. Her body was coiled with small serpents, surrounding the breasts, waist and thighs. On her left arm she wore a short silver scepter, which was what flashed in the dark.

The flare was consumed and Lara lit another. She came and climbed up the statue (it was much bigger than her) and climbed to the neck of the angel, extending an arm towards the rod.

- Lara, no!

She jumped, startled, and hesitated, about to fall off the statue. She grabbed just in time to the slender waist of the angel.

Kurtis was standing in the middle of the room.

- Why on earth did you do that? - She snapped, furious - First you disappear and now you scare me to death! Why...?

- Don't touch that scepter. – he warned, rapidly approaching to her.

Lara frowned. Who was he to say what could she or could not do? Haha! He would find out who ruled there...

Her fingers stretched back to the beautiful silver scepter. Almost instantly, Kurtis climbed the statue and with considerable chutzpah, grabbed Lara around the waist and tried to pull her away from there. But she already had taken the scepter, and with a squeal, took it out of the angel's hand.

There was a flash. Lara felt like falling back, but she did not let the scepter. Then, a blinding light enveloped her, and lost consciousness.

(…)

At first it was like a white curtain spread before him. Then he saw himself on those snowy mountains, swept by the winds. However, he did not notice the cold or wind whip, and he knew he was not really there even though he saw quite clearly what was happening before his eyes.

There was a plane crash a few meters away. The remains were still smoldering. And through the blizzard of nine, he saw a figure that had been dragged away from the debris and lay half torn down in the snow. She was, rather, a girl of about twenty years.

He walked slowly to her. He did not know how he did it because he did not feel their feet sinking into the snow, but he still was soon at her side. The girl was slightly injured but it did not seem serious, at most, a few bruises and a broken arm, which she was holding while moaning with her face buried in the snow. The hair, a golden brown tone, had been released and flew around her bowed head, while shivering cold and numb with pain.

She slowly lifted her face, and overwhelmed, he recognized her: she was Lara!

A young Lara, on the threshold between adolescence and adulthood, a terrified Lara who looked wide-eyed the burned and shattered plane as she sobbed quietly

- All them are ... dead! Am I alone?

He reached out to touch her, to tell her that she was not alone, but his hand could not reach her nor she saw him. That had happened long ago, and he had not been then as now he was not really there.

Lara, injured, began to crawl on snow. Her skirt and stockings ripped and her jacket was torn. Not long she would survive to the cold. But she still dragged on slowly, without looking back, pressing her lips hard, but tears bathed her face...

(…)

At first she saw only darkness. Then the shadows began to take shape. She heard a persistent leak in the hole and knew that the air must be moist and breathless, but she still felt nothing. Her eyes wandered over the walls of stone and she concluded that it would be a kind of dungeon or old cell.

In one corner, there was a mother huddled with her son. At first she did not distinguish them well, because she had dark skin and was covered well with furs. A nice dreamcatcher, which she remembered seeing before - ah, but where? - hung around her neck. The boy was still very little, not more than 6 years old and not really look like the woman; he had dark hair and blue eyes.

Suddenly they heard a violent blow from the ceiling, which was wooden. The boy shrugged and let out a groan, so the mother rushed to cover his mouth.

A deep, dark voice echoed in the upper chamber. She recognized it immediately: Eckhardt's voice was!

- You're not helping much, my friend. - whispered the winding Dark Alchemist's voice - Give me both mother and child and I'll leave you free.

After a few moments, she heard a cry, a gurgle, and the quavering voice of an old man who replied:

- I do not... I do not know where...

There was another violent coup and then a sickening crunch of broken bones. The scream of the unfortunate tore the walls.

The mother closed her eyes and began to pray silently, while pressing the child against her chest.

- I'm willing to forgive a life. - continued Eckhardt – After all, you, old Master, you're not dangerous to me. But I need that mother and her child. Moreover, I even could leave the mother alone, if you beg that to me, but give me the child.

- No... I can't...

Another brutal blow. More broken bones. The boy, drenched in sweat, was trembling in the arms of the mother while she fixed her eyes staring at the wooden ceiling, from which fell a gentle dust.

- The child, the child ... - Eckhardt insisted.

- I can't!

And then the patient Alchemist, inflexible, ordered to prolong the torture for a long time. But the Master, the old Master, who had taken mother to his home and had played with the child in his arms, said not a word. Finally, he killed him...

(…)

- What is this?

Lara, clad in the thick fur of the Tibetan natives, looked with troubled expression at Zhong Yi, the hunter who had gathered her semi-conscious to Tokakeriby's village, near the mountain. The man had just thrown a heavy gun at her feet.

- This? - said Zhong Yi, revealing toothless gums with a horrible grimace - This is a gun!

Lara's brown eyes sparkled and for a moment again aroused her aristocratic vein.

- I know it's a weapon, you idiot! But why give it to me?

- To use it, no doubt.

He gave a dry laugh and threw down the birds that had caught that morning. But she was furious at him.

- I'm not going to hunt deer with you! I want to return to England!

Another abrupt laugh.

- But, my little stupid, you will never be again in England if you don't start shooting that thing! Do you understand?

- Obviously, not!

- You are really silly! Do you really think the plane will come for you here in Tokakeriby? No, my little idiot, if you want to return to your homeland, you have to traverse half Nepal, you have to reach Kathmandu. And once there, do as you can manage! But until we get there, how the hell do you defend yourself, eh? How do you manage yourself again wolves, bandits, uh, pretty? Do you think that they will respect you for your doll's face?

Lara blushed with rage as the mountain was mocking her. She got up; ready to leave the cabin, but Zhong Yi stopped her with a hand gesture.

- Stop right there. We'll walk to the border of Nepal. But once there, you have to make the journey alone, and if you can not shoot a gun to defend yourself, my precious, then any animal or person you come across will tear you apart the way they want. Now take that gun, that'll teach you to shoot like a man should do.

- But I don't want to kill anyone ... - she whispered softly.

For a moment, the hunter was silent. Then he again showed his ugly smile.

- Oh my dear, but you have to do sooner or later, if you want to survive. This is not England. Here life is defended with blood. The first time you kill a man, you will suffer. You will stop sleeping. But trust me ... as you get used to it ... you'll like it ... Yes, you'll like ... you'll like it, you'll like it!

And burst into grotesque laughter, as the girl, pale, went up; frowning took the heavy gun and stood to face her stern teacher.

(…)

Again, she saw the woman who was a mother. Now that she saw her at daylight, she knew she was a Native American, perhaps a Red or a Sioux, who knows. She was beautiful in her way, and she had never seen anyone with such elaborate hair, artistically woven in a lovely way.

She seemed a little more adult, but glowed with happiness. The appalling scene in the dungeon appeared to be left behind and now she smiled widely to the man coming towards her.

For a moment, she felt her heart skipped a beat at seeing that burly man looked a lot like Kurtis: he had the same skin, same hair, and same eyes. The Indian threw herself into his arms and kissed him on the mouth.

- I've waited so long ... - she whispered, eyes full of tears.

- I could not come before - he answered. - How many years...?

- Fifteen.

- Fifteen, Marie ... fifteen. But I'm here. – he frowned – Where's him?

The Indian smiled, pleased.

- You won't recognize him. He's now so tall.

And turning towards the house, she shouted:

- Kurtis!

Then she saw him leave, and she felt a glimmer of recognition. He was a young indeed high, which would be about seventeen. He had only a hint of beard on his face and imitated the characteristic expression of his father with a frown. They were like two drops of water.

- Well, well. - said Konstantin jokingly - The last time I saw you were in diapers.

That comment did not amuse the young at all, who kept looking at the stranger who was his father. It was the first time he saw him in his life, but no doubt it was him. Sometimes it seemed that he was a legend, that his mother had invented that hero of the Lux Veritatis who made the impossible and possible for the survival of the Order and liquidate the Cabal, but in the end, he was real, there he was.

Although he had taken a long time without seeing his wife, the truth was that the most important for him was his son. So he rounded the shoulder with his strong arm - ignoring the sign of retreat, by sheer distrust that made the boy - and took him aside to talk with him.

- Your mother told me by letter; – he whispered – that you already showed the Don.

The Don. So they called like that those horrible powers that had made him crazy for some time. Crystals exploding when he was angry, tables turning alone, situations and people that he could see through time and space. The Don.

- It's time to teach you how to control it. - Konstantin interjected, determined – If not, you never won't be truly one of us.

- What happens if I do not want to be one of you? - said him, with his adolescent rebellion.

The man turned slowly, and she shuddered, because he exhibited the same sardonic grin which years later his son would imitate with complete accuracy.

- You can not reject the Don. It's not a gift, it's a must. We've been protecting you all these years for it. Remember the old Master, who died for keeping you and your mother's away from the Dark Alchemist. Your mother and I have sacrificed our lives for you and the entire Order. In fact, you should already know that.

- I know how to handle firearms. – Kurtis insisted, stubborn - That should be enough.

Konstantin laughed again.

- That's fine for ordinary men. But for you it's only the beginning. Now you must learn to use ... this. - and with his index finger tapped the boy's forehead - When you learn to use this well, any gun will have more power than you.

(…)

- Lara, I think you've lost your mind!

Outraged, Lord Croft twirled across his luxurious office, glancing at her daughter, who was planted in front of him with defiant eyes. She was dressed in trousers and jacket, an outfit that would never have been considered appropriate for a lady of her age, and also that brave mare air which they were trying vainly to control since her teens.

Sitting in a chair, the delicate Lady Croft, her mother, looked open-mouthed at her daughter, wondering what had gone wrong in her education so that the result would be that.

- I am determined. - Lara said, crossing her arms, another gesture too masculine for the firm's high society etiquette.

- No, no and no! - roared the lord, out of himself - No, Lara, you can't do that to us, you can't betray us like that, and if you do, you are not more our daughter ...

- Enough, Henshingly! - murmured the mother, silent, and turning to Lara, she spoke softly - Lara, honey, I understand that this whole incident and survival in the Himalayas has upset you. We understand you've been hungry and cold and you had to do horrible things to save yourself... But now you're back at home with us, and we will not let happen again nothing wrong to you...

- You don't understand. - Lara said, through clenched teeth - I'm perfectly. I told you I want to be an archaeologist, to travel as an explorer throughout the world.

- That's no occupation for girls in your class! - cried the lady, shocked - That dirty work and low pay is only for paupers, for tomboys who spend their lives wearing pants and sleeping without a roof! We, Lara, we've raised to be a real woman, to be a lady!

- Well, I do not want to be such thing!

- Remember your oath... - Lord Croft hissed softly.

Lara turned to her father, daring him, livid, accusing.

- Remember your oath. – he repeated - You gave your word to marry the son of Lord Farrington. Will it seem nice to him that his wife go tumbling down the world as a prostitute?

- I will not marry Farrington.

The father slammed his fist against the table, making vibrate the glass bulb.

- You're crazy! How should we break a commitment of that caliber? Do you want your mother and me to drop our heads in shame? How can we present ourselves to society with your attitude?

- That wedding - Lara continued, trying to stay calm - was decided without my approval.

- Lara! - protested Lady Croft – He's the best match we could find! We have worked hard for that commitment! And you gave us your word!

- Yes… yes, I did it. – she sighed - But I don't want to marry. Go and tell Farrington to look for another woman for his son. I already told you what I want to do with my life.

- Never! - yelled Lord Croft – I prefer to see you dead and buried rather than wearing man's clothes and sleeping in the dust at the other end of the earth!

She watched him coldly for a moment. Months ago, before the accident, she would have still trembled before him. But not anymore. Not anymore.

She turned and strode away, heading for the door.

- It's your fault! – she heard her mother's moan, turning to her husband - You allow her to go that adventure with Von Croy, you fill her head with that nonsense!

When Lara grabbed the doorknob, she heard his father say:

- Lara Croft, it's your last chance. Cross that door and I swear to my grave that I will never call you again my daughter.

She hesitated only a moment. Then, without looking back, opened the door with a jerk and left closing the door.

In her chair, Lady Croft began to mourn.

(…)

One shot. And another. And another.

Kurtis looked down and saw a red dye on the fabric of his shirt. He touched his chest and knew he had been reached. Before he doubled up, he felt the wound and knew that the bullet had exit from behind, towards the shoulder, without damaging the lung. He was lucky.

Collapsing on the floor, he dropped the gun and closed his eyes, while it was raining shrapnel around.

Why was he there? Why?

- Hey, hey man!

He opened his eyes. There was the good of Clarkson, looking at him with his pale Yankee face, as he dropped his gun running and knelt beside him.

- Gee, Trent! Have you been screwed, eh? – he examined the wound a few moments and said - Come on, this is nothing! Arise!

Flipping him, he made him stood up. Kurtis saw the blood spattered over the arms of his companion, who began to pull him.

- Come on, Trent. For a while we all are in retreat. That Iraq's pig will know about us, you'll see. When we return with reinforcements, we will do a great mess…

And then his face brightened.

- Hey, look, there are our guys! Uh, you!

He released Kurtis and took a few steps away from him, who, too weak, remained in his place; covering the bullet hole with his dirty hand.

Clarkson did not get very far. A few meters, everything exploded.

Kurtis wake up hours later in the infirmary of the base. He opened his eyes; he found the face of the sergeant major of his regiment looking at him.

- Soldier Trent? – he muttered.

He nodded weakly.

- How lucky has been you, soldier. You and Clarkson were too close to...

- How is him?

- Clarkson? He's dead. He stepped on a mine, poor guy.

Kurtis closed his eyes. It wasn't the first time he lost a friend, but he turned increasingly to feel that sense of abandonment. All died… except him.

The sergeant peered him with his stern look, rubbing his stubble.

- How old are you, soldier Trent?

- Twenty.

- For God's sake, what the hell are you doing here? What crime did you committed?

He said that because the men who served in the Foreign Legion used to be criminals who exchanged prison sentences or even death sentences for a dedicated military service.

- I rebelled and disobeyed my superiors. - he said with a grimace, recalling his father's face.

The sergeant raised an eyebrow. That didn't sound like crime, since it didn't exist most obedient and faithful soldier that Kurtis Trent. Of course he had no right to pry his crimes if he did not want to.

- Well- he said, rising heavily on the bed - I'm sorry for Clarkson, but that's life. War is shit, Trent, and we're all fools who remove that shit while our bosses settle their aristocratic ass in armchairs. But I'm even sorrier for you; I've just been told by the nurse that they've run out of morphine. You'll spend a bad night, kid, but...

He fumbled in his old jacket and pulled out a flask, which resulted in the patient. Kurtis's caught it on the fly.

- The best Russian vodka! - he crooned with a festive voice - Two drinks and you do not remember who is your mother, Trent. I hope you'll recover soon.

Kurtis returned the military salute (which seemed very ridiculous when lying on a stretcher) and spent several hours staring at the ceiling. In the end, when the pain of the wound started to become unbearable, he opened the cap of the flask and took it to his lips.

(…)

He opened his eyes slowly, and the first breath was painful, as if what came into his lungs was not air, but fire.

Lara was a few feet away, crouched against the wall, clutching the silver scepter in her right hand as she peered at him, frowning.

- You! – she exclaimed - Why did you do that?

- What? - Kurtis muttered, rubbing his neck.

- What did you do? You've thrown on me and you made me fall off from the statue! I've been a terrible blow! Why the hell did you do that?

- Doing what? - he said, frowning - I have only set aside for you to stop fiddling with that damn scepter!

The explorer watched him suspiciously, as she turned the rod with an elegant wave of her hand.

- Well, you see, it does not burn or anything. It hasn't been any thunder or lightning provided to the statue, nor it has come to life to kill me. You are an exaggerated!

- It could have been dangerous.

- Do you think I can't take care of myself? - she stood up and dominated from her high stature – Get away from me!

And she turned in disgust, as if repelling him.

As she walked away, her heart pounding, Lara wondered if she would not going crazy. Was it real what she had seen? The dungeon, the mother and child, the Legion at the front? Was Kurtis' business ... or that damn rod's?

She looked down. The beautiful silver rod, oddly shaped and finished in a strange scroll, seemed just what it was, a silver scepter.


	14. Chapter 13: Daniele Monteleone

**Chapter 13: Daniele Monteleone **

The wide and spacious tent's canvas went away with a slap. The woman who appeared before Monteleone could not be other than Lara Croft. She was dirty, her clothes torn and disheveled hair, but she was, no doubt, by that way of looking at him as if he was worm.

- _Signorina_ Croft! What a pleasure to finally have you in my presence!

He got up, put down the Martini on the rocks he was tasting and shook the dirty hand of the explorer with the finest of courtesies.

- I would kiss your hand if you remove that leather mitt, but as you'll see...

- Who are you and why you have this camp cordoned off and under arrest? - Lara cut, with little wait to talk.

It had been a bold operator who, having fled from his tent, had waited for them at the edge of the pit, anxious to tell them what had happened. Furious, Lara would have wanted to go to stand up at Monteleone immediately, but Kurtis had advised to put the scepter in a safe place first. However, after going out of the excavation they had been surrounded by Monteleone's men and escorted to his tent.

- Don't you want to sit? - said the _mafioso_, making a sweeping gesture towards a comfortable chair next to him- Your friend can also sit if he wish.

He said that by Kurtis, who had just entered behind her and watched the scene with a grim. He looked to Zip and Selma, who sat hunched in a corner of the tent. The Turkish girl gave him a desperate glance that seemed to say: _Don't trust his courtesy!_ Kurtis nodded slightly.

- I will not sit until you respond. - Lara insisted, who was no looking away from the handsome fifty.

- Let me then explain to you. My name is Daniele Monteleone and I own a large restoration company in Sicily. You see, I have decided to move here because I received news that someone was digging again under Cappadocia. I am deeply interested in following this excavation and that is the main reason I'm here.

- This excavation is protected by law and supported by Turkey's Government. - Lara replied dryly - You have no right or permission to enter here.

Monteleone smiled peacefully, and in doing so discovered a pair of silver teeth and a gold one at the ends of his gums.

- So I thought I heard from this beautiful young Turkey woman. But understand me, _signorina_ Croft, my background and influences exempt me from any legal obligations. Now we are equals.

- You have cordoned off the camp at gunpoint and locked the workers under threat of death. - Lara spat between teeth - Am I wrong?

- No deaths, dear _signorina_, no deaths! - replied the other, shocked – We only have ensured that they remain in a safe and well protected place until we had this meeting.

_Liar_, thought Lara, furious. They had fallen into the hands of the Sicilian Mafia. And all she could do for now, since they were hostages, was to try to solve everything through diplomatic channels. Getting to hit shots right there was absolutely insane, since all Monteleone's men were armed and Selma, Zip and the other workers could be injured or killed.

_I do not want another slaughter like that of Egypt. _

So, deep breathing, she showed her best smile and sat quietly in the chair offered by him. Kurtis discreetly stood beside her, behind her back.

- I knew you were able to parley. - Monteleone said, with another brand new smile, as he returned to raise his Martini and take it to his lips.

At that time, a woman entered the tent, already crowded with the conversant and Monteleone's personal guard. She appeared removing the fabric from the back of the tent and walked passing Selma Zip and seating next to the _mafioso_.

Lara needed only a look to know that this was a prostitute. She had long curly hair, with a deep reddish hue, white skin and freckled, and eyes of a curious honey color. But her opulent figure, with sinuous curves and large breasts, was clad in a dress that left little possible for the imagination.

- Sorry. – the _mafioso_ then said smiling - This is my beautiful Maddalena. Don't worry about her presence, she's a smart girl and knows a lot of diplomacy.

_A kind of diplomacy that I know_, thought Lara looking down on the sexy smile that the woman had painted on her bitch's face.

Maddalena cast her bored gaze by the staff and eventually stopped at Kurtis. Seeing him, her golden eyes opened widely, caught by the burly man's body. She seemed pleased with the analysis because then she showed a smile of admiration with her red lipstick lips, still staring at him shamelessly.

Lara looked away, disgusted, and said to the _mafioso_:

- If you come here is because you have a particular interest. What is it?

The man cleared his throat and left the Martini on the table. She was starting to get nervous with the parsimony of his movements.

- You see, I am interested in some old object... as I said, my job is to run a restoration company. We had in our hands extremely important restoration projects, cite an example, we had the Shroud of Turin or some famous works by Titian to be restored. This interest has arisen my desire to know the object of which I speak, which is supposed to be under our own feet here in Cappadocia.

- What is this object?

- Well, it's a kind of scepter, apparently wrought in silver, which...

Kurtis had been dreading it. _The scepter. They're coming for the scepter_. And he began to curse all the demons of hell. Problems. That would only bring problems.

- ... and therefore I wanted to ask you, who are undoubtedly an expert on the subject, if you are aware of the presence of this scepter and, above all, if you have seen during your last movements.

Lara exhibited an innocent smile and said:

- I have no idea what you're talking about.

Kurtis silently cursed again. That was expected. She would not give up the bloody scepter and then...

- You seem not to be well informed of what research we are conducting here. - continued Lara - This is a cemetery belonging to a peculiar race of hybrids known as the Nephilim, according to Jewish mythology. There is no more here than niches and bodies. Not the slightest trace of treasures, much less silver scepters.

That seemed to confuse Monteleone, who showed insecurity for the first time.

- But... certain texts speak of the existence of a city under the necropolis. No doubt in that city may...

- Indeed, the texts speak of it. - Lara said hastily - And now we are in the process of verifying whether such city exists, but probably it's no more than a legend. If it was real, since you moved here, you would be the first to be informed of the discovery. So - she concluded, rising with a graceful motion - no more to say for now. Excuse me but both my partner and I are exhausted and must retire. And I guess my partner Selma and my assistant Zip can come with us perfectly.

The _mafioso_ hesitated only a moment, then muttered:

- Sure, sure...! Maddalena, pretty, accompany our guests to their camp. Make withdraw my men... I would not interfere in this laudable task.

The ginger girl stood up and, after leading a languid glance at Kurtis, made her way through the armed men while she was dictating dry orders in Italian. It appeared that whore ruled there as much as her master. It would be nice to remember that.

(…)

- Oh my God, Lara! Now what should we do?

Selma watched, horrified, the beautiful rod that Lara had taken from her backpack and wielded with total self-confidence, with a triumphant smile on her face.

- What should we do? - laughed the explorer - That Monteleone will have to steal this from my cold, dead fingers!

- I like that, baby! - shouted Zip, which erupted in applause.

The Turkish girl, pale, turned to Kurtis:

- Please, talk with her!

- Me? - the man was leaning against a table, smoking - And what can I say? I told her to leave it in its place. But _milady_ is the queen of stubbornness.

Lara left the scepter on the table.

- Did you really think I would give this to the first Sicilian Mafia who asked me with complete kindness? Come on!

- Use your head, Lara. – Kurtis muttered - We now have the whole damn _Cosa Nostra_ camp next door, waiting for you to give them the damn scepter. The lives of the workers, the lives of us all depend on you.

- That was I meant! - Selma burst triumphantly.

But the explorer had her arms crossed.

- I will not be the toady of an Italian boss, okay? Not until I know what's this rod and why he wants it. Unless you know about that, Mr. Lux Veritatis.

Kurtis did not respond.

- Well. - Lara concluded. - You are right about one thing, which is that we have to be careful with this rabble. While Monteleone is happy, everything is fine. Others will not have to import. Selma, you will remain with the scepter, keep it safe. I'll deal with Monteleone and find out what I can. You Zip, from now you'll be quiet as a tomb or you'll suffer the consequences. And you Kurtis...

- You don't have to give me orders. - he answered sharply. He threw the butt on the ground and stepped it with the heel of his boot - You're making a mistake, Lara, and you'll end up regretting it.

He turned and left the tent without giving her time to respond.

(…)

- I say he's absolutely handsome. - Maddalena murmured, her eyes squinting - You should have seen his eyes, Bay Li. Those eyes have broken many hearts, I swear! And he's terrific... those muscles... he's a military, for sure. Only the military have such perfect body.

- Well, well. - chirped the beautiful Chinese girl – He must have some defect.

- Yes... he didn't look at me once.

- Now that's serious ... he must be gay.

- Impossible! I say he's a man from head to toe. He must be a monster in bed.

- Well, if you like him, decidedly you should fuck him.

The two prostitutes burst into laughter and took another sip of champagne. They had spent the dinner together and now they had a bit of rest.

For some time Maddalena and Bay Li had been friends. In the large group of women who went everywhere with Monteleone to the satisfaction of his men, Maddalena was the housekeeper and mistress of all, not just the boss's favorite, but also the most commanding. Bay Li was another rare beauty, born in Shanghai and deported to the whims of moguls. From the beginning she had assumed that the prevalence was up to the beautiful ginger, and had not attempted to combat her influence, which had reported their friendship.

- Do you know his name?

- I heard the Englishwoman calling him. He's called Kurtis.

- Mmm... perhaps they are lovers.

- I think not! Have you seen that woman, that Lara Croft? She's just a bitter iron lady. Her attitude cries loudly for a fuck.

Bay Li laughed again and choked with champagne.

- Oh, Maddalena, you must act before she takes him to bed!

- Don't be ridiculous. That English woman is a prude; I see it at first glance.

- Well, she's reputed to be a bitch.

- Who gave her that reputation did not know anything about women. Having at your hand that Hercules and not fucking him is quite stupid. I'll take care of him.

- Will you charge him?

- Of course not!

They laughed again, but then a shadow covered the light of the lamp that lit them. They turned and saw Sciarra, standing before them with his dark smile.

- What do you want? - Bay Li asked irritably.

- I come for Maddalena. Tonight I want to be with her.

The beautiful Italian twisted her mouth.

- Are you an idiot or somewhat? Go away; I don't want to see you!

- You're coming with me, baby.

- And what will your boss think about it, huh, smart guy?

Everyone who worked with Monteleone knew that Maddalena was untouchable. Only the boss could sleep with her because he had ordered it. She was his lover and from that moment Maddalena did not give herself to another man but him. Anyone who would put his hand on the beautiful Maddalena could end thrown in a ditch with a bullet in the neck.

- Monteleone will not know. He will not know because if you say something, or if you refuse coming with me, I will go and tell him that you're drooling by the guy who is with the English explorer.

- Nonsense! - she mumbled.

- I just heard it. – he turned towards the Chinese - You know what Monteleone did the last time he caught his _carissima_ Maddalena with another guy? He cut his bollocks and hanged him on a lamp post, and she had her body ripped with belt blows. Do you remember, Maddalena? You screamed so much that we had to gag you.

The ginger was now very pale.

- Monteleone is sooo jealous, right? - continued Sciarra, smiling cruelly - Sometimes he forget that you're just a whore, and you act like the whore you are.

He turned back to Bay Li, who looked at him terrified.

- Since then, every time our master has the slightest doubt about the faithfulness of his beloved, he gives her a monumental beating to remember who owes her services. And woe to the poor guy he suspect of... once he suspected of the good Marc'Antonio, who was truly gay... poor, poor Marc'Antonio ... how his body rolled over the cliff...

- That's enough, shut up! - cried Maddalena. Rising, she said – Let's get it over!

Sciarra, smiling, grabbed her by the arm and led her towards the rocks. When the corner of his eye he saw Bay Li getting up, he said:

- Stay still there, sweetie. Then I will come after you.


	15. Chapter 14: The poison

**Chapter 14: Poison**

Gertrude loved to comb Bathsheba.

Very few people knew about that sickly old lady's past, who never seemed to have been beautiful and young. Like any human being she had had her spring, and it was rumored she had been a stage actress in her distant youth. What was clear is that she had been Eckhardt's lover until he scorned her for getting old.

Gertrude had never had children, but she was a creature sensitive to beauty and youth, and so she could not ignore the charm of Giselle's daughter, who embodied all that she had loved and wanted.

Bathsheba's hair, when wearing loose, reached to her knees, wrapping her in a dark, thick mat that never lost that soft sweet scent of lavender, which nobody knew where it came from, since she never had perfumed herself. Gertrude had tried to cut it off, but in two days returned to grow to take back its length. Therefore, the old lady amused herself combing and tiding her hair, and she let her do it so she told her about her past and the Cabal, which was useful for her.

So, eagerly, Gertrude separated the black hair strands, which rolled to her elbows, while artistically braided and knotted her hair to cool the neck.

- Do you understand? - she said at the time - Why we need the Scepter. It is the key blow to remove the remaining obstacles. We're still not invincible... even though your mother believes so. That Lux Veritatis could even now destroy us, if he tries.

- What poor faith you have in me, aunt. - grinned Bathsheba.

- Vanity is not a virtue. Believe me, our beloved Alchemist, and even the illustrious Karel, considered themselves invincible. But you see where they are now. You, my dear, you have the key so it will not happen again.

She stopped abruptly at the sight of Giselle in the doorway. The attractive scientific looked at both severely. Gertrude turned away immediately, but Bathsheba did not budge from the sofa where she was installed and launched a lazy glance at her mother.

- What the hell is this? - said Giselle - A ladies' room? Do you really think that this is a hairdresser?

- We were plotting, mother. - said the beautiful slyly. She rose slowly and began to curl the hair on the nape.

The scientist did not answer. She glanced at the old lady and retired. Bathsheba, who could see beyond the minds and hearts, saw the shadow of death hovering over Gertrude.

- Aunt – she muttered then – you should leave. My mother doesn't likes you.

- And what she could do to me? When that proud of your mother was a brat, I was already the lover of the Alchemist! What does she have to teach me, to show me? She should beware to touch me! She should beware this witch!

And she laughed, showing her toothless gums. Bathsheba smiled with that vague smile of her and whispered:

- Don't say I didn't warn you, aunt.

(…)

- Dr. Boaz claims your presence, Gertrude.

Hugh, the spy, was waiting at the door. Before she could think of nothing else, the old lady knew she could not refuse. Things had changed a lot and she was not more one of the most respected people in the Cabal. She was barely a shadow, drowned by the intense light emanating from the powerful Giselle.

Lazily she got up and followed Hugh into the hall. Giselle, reclining on the couch, was drinking a cup of coffee. Seeing Gertrude, she stood up and, with a cold smile, pointed to the seat:

- Do the favor of taking a seat, aunt.

The old woman sat rigid, and looked down at the coffee cup that had been served to her.

- You don't appreciate me more than I appreciate you, so I'll be brief. - said Giselle with a sharp voice - I warned you to stay away from my daughter. Despite being a supernatural being, she has only two years of life and you're filling her head with nonsense. You disobeyed me and snatch me all the time, when I need her and her immeasurable power to advance the cause of the Cabal. When in bothering her you hinder that cause.

Gertrude laughed contemptuously.

- Insolent young lady! What do you know about the cause of the Cabal? Experiments, samples, analysis, mutants ... Bah! Neither you nor your sister were useful to our cause. I'm the one who is heading your daughter towards the Truth. When trying to use her as a mere subject of your experiments, you're blaspheming against her great power. You're using an angel as you would use a scalpel! Beware, you senseless, because Lilith's curse can fall on you!

Leaning on the table violently, Gertrude took the cup and took a big gulp of coffee.

- While you are wasting your time with your patients, your daughter sees open her way. Do not underestimate her, Boaz, she was not born to be your wrist, she is more powerful than you and she'll crush you with her foot, you'll see!

- You stupid dotard. - mocked Giselle - My daughter is my baby and she loves me. Everything you say are senile ravings of a decrepit grandmother.

Suddenly, Gertrude choked. She had noticed a sort of bitter taste in the coffee, but now that taste was rising by her throat and prevented her from breathing. On rising, trembling, she stumbled and overturned the table. Her knees buckled and she collapsed on the floor. She began to vomit.

- I warned you. - hissed Giselle, quiet, as she took another sip of coffee .- I warned you.

- Help! - gurgled the old woman, extending her arms toward the stolid Hugh - Poison! Poison!

But the spy did not move from his site. Doubled over, the old lady howled again in pain, and turned angrily towards Giselle.

- I curse you! – she shouted, choking on her own vomit - I curse you, doomed bitch! Remember my face when you go to hell, monster! You'll die by drowning, choked by your own creation! I curse you!

She could not say more. She fell face down and after a few spasms, she remained motionless.

Giselle was quietly sipping her coffee. When she finished, looking at Hugh, she only said:

- Get rid of the corpse.

(…)

- You've poisoned her.

Giselle looked up. There in the doorway, silhouetted against the light the slim figure of Bathsheba. Her beautiful eyes looking at her, calm and serene.

- You've poisoned her and ordered to dump her body to a landfill.

She said that with the certainty of someone who knows everything even before it happens. In her eyes there was no censorship or appreciation, she was totally expressionless.

- Yes, and I ordered that filthy chapel to be burnt. - said Giselle - No more superstitions.

Her daughter went towards her and sat beside her.

- She was an old woman who did not hurt anyone. - she said again.

- She was standing between you and me! Come on, child, you know I've done this for your good. She only had in her mind her past memories and such claptrap she learned from her lover. And although you didn't know this, she in her youth was as cruel as Eckhardt. She enjoyed his massacres. Come on, we're better without her.

Bathsheba smiled with that smile impossible to decipher.

- She has cursed you.

- Do you think all her talk scared me? The unfortunate was dying and wanted to say something awesome before going to hell. I hope you don't believe in such things.

- Why not? – she showed her mocking smile again – Did I not curse Meteora's abbot?

- You know you have the power. But that dotard had nothing! Come on, now we're just you and me. And with that I have demonstrated to the others that nobody can joke with me. Whoever disobeys me, will have to bear the consequences of his actions.

That was what she had become. Bathsheba was decided to not think about that and said softly:

- Finally I've seen him.

Giselle looked at him, puzzled.

- Yes?

She nodded, smiling calmly.

- He's in Cappadocia. They are digging the citadel.

- Fearless, foolhardy. - the scientific whispered .- Do you want me to send our men?

- No. Let me do this. I know what wire to move. Besides, I have the certainty that they are in possession of an object that interests us even more than the Shards themselves.

- You have to explain me more.

- Be content with it for now, mother. I'll be back in a while... and I'll return with him.

She stood up, smiling coldly, and immediately her beautiful body was diluted in the air.


	16. Chapter 15: The Vatican manuscript

**Chapter 15: The Vatican manuscript**

Maddalena awoke before dawn.

She hurt all over. She spent a cold look at Sciarra, who slept beside her, and shuddered with disgust at remembering the brutal caresses of that animal who did not consider women better than rats. On the other side of the bed, on the floor, slept the huddled Bay Li, who was also bruised. She dared not wake her.

She stood up carefully, and limped to the end of the tent. She took her clothes and left. Luckily, the whole camp was still asleep, and Monteleone had not called her. With a little more luck, he might not ever know _that_.

She walked hesitantly to the creek and got into the current. She groaned when her body, full of bruises, brushed with rocks.

Quickly, she washed herself, trying to erase that nasty mark which had stuck to the skin. She wanted to mourn, but she bit her lip hardly. She was not a child! He may had not treated her well, but after all she was a whore and she did not forget her childhood in the port of Syracuse.

Maddalena's story was not very different from any other port whore's who had won her bread offering herself to the highest bidder.

She didn't remember who had been her mother. Probably, another prostitute, and her father one of those sailors coming and going forever. She remembered, however, having run and jumped from the boats moored to the docks of the Sicilian city. At twelve she was already a prostitute, known by her real name, Giulia. Her only family were the madams of brothels in which she lived before returning to her childhood's port. She had lived under bridges and traveling the harbor at night in search of customers. Sometimes she tried to enter a church to pray or make an offering to clean minimally her damned soul, but there was always an old pious woman or priest who thrown her away. She was impure and people of her class could not go to any holy place.

She was eighteen when she met Monteleone. She was sitting on the dock, her legs submerged in the water while combing her hair. A shadow covered the sun and turning over, she saw an attractive and well dressed man who looked at her in silence, rapt.

- Hello, Maddalena. – he said softly.

She stood up, confused.

- Excuse me, sir. – she whispered - You are wrong. My name is Giulia.

He smiled.

- No, no. You can only be called Maddalena. With such hair? You're Maddalena.

She ran a hand through her red loops, stunned.

- Don't you know - he continued –is said that Mary Magdalene, the prostitute who was so loved by Christ, had a hair as red as long as yours? You could only be called like her.

And she, who in her life had been touched by a word of affection, she blushed deeply.

- Do you want...?

- Come with me. That's all I demand.

No more. Giulia, now Maddalena, abandoned forever the stinking port and its brutal sailors. At first she thought Monteleone was going to be her charming prince and he'll marry her, finally redeeming her dirty life. But tales didn't exist for her. She soon learned that he was already married, he had children, even grandchildren, and she would just be his lover. But she acknowledged that she had been ripped from an infinite misery. From that day, no prostitute was most envied than her. And she never had to surrender again to someone who she did not love.

At least, until that night.

She walked slowly out of the water and covered again with her dress, no matter it would be wet. The fabric, by rubbing her bruises, tore from her a cry of pain.

That bastard of Sciarra would pay dearly for that. That sucker will see.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps. Terrified, thinking that someone who saw her so badly injured would tell Monteleone, she ran and hid behind a rock. A dark figure came down to the creek bank.

Her surprise was great in seeing it was Kurtis. The man raised his arms, took off his shirt, threw it aside and began to wipe his face and neck with the stream's water.

Maddalena looked quietly over the top edge of the rock, and admired the muscular and contoured forms the man's torso. She was surprised for his white skin, as she had hoped it was dark, and the shadow of chest hair. His body was covered with scars, some older than others, and others that had almost disappeared, also some of them very recent. But what troubled her most was to see that scar across his abdomen up and down, but over time had become pale and almost confused with the rest of his skin. When he tilted on the water, she saw the same scar at his back, still somewhat thicker and red, across his back. Maddalena was horrified, because it gave her the impression that someone had impaled him on a huge butcher knife and yet there he was alive. She wondered who would be able to make this atrocity to him, or what kind of weapon or object so atrocious could cause that kind of injury, or even better, what kind of man was he who had come out alive from that.

By leaning on the rock even more, trying to see him better, she touched the stone with her bruised stomach and winced. It was enough for him to look up, sat up suddenly and took in the hand a strange, shaped disc object he had in his belt, which seemed to be some sort of weapon.

The prostitute felt it was better to appear. She came out shyly from behind the rock, glad that the darkness hid part of her bruises.

- Sorry. - he said then - You scared me.

- You don't seem at all the sort of man to be scared of something. - she said, smiling, ready to attack from the start.

- I know you. - Kurtis said, as if he hadn't heard the compliment - You were in Monteleone's tent.

- I'm his favorite. - smiled her again, hoping that she would not have to explain the exact meaning of "favorite".

To the disappointment of Maddalena, Kurtis bowed and put on the shirt. But he kept looking at her. For a moment, she had hoped that he was looking at her body, which showed completely to him through the wet fabric of her transparent nightgown, but she immediately realized that what he was looking at were the cuts and bruises she had across the body. She stepped back, biting her lower lip.

- Anything I can do for you? - Kurtis said then.

_Yes, of course. Fuck me_, thought Maddalena, but what she said was:

- Why, for this? Oh, come on, man, if it's nothing! I've fallen rolling down the rocks... I'm so stupid!

And she gave him a sensual smile, as she stroked her flaming hair, a gesture which usually delighted the men. He smiled, because she was really lovely in doing that, but then he mockingly said:

- I didn't know that rocks could bite.

Maddalena blush again for the second time in her life, while putting her fingers in the throat, where they were still marks of Sciarra's teeth.

- Daily work. - she continued, finally assuming he knew what she was - There are very few men who treat us as human beings. The fact of being whores does not make us like sandbags with which to practice boxing.

As she spoke, she had approached him slowly, crossing the stream. She was very close...

There were footsteps and suddenly appeared from behind the rocks a tall and slender shadow. Maddalena flinched and backed away. Lara Croft was watching at her with a sardonic smile.

- You'll catch a cold, sister, if you keep going like that. - she said sarcastically, looking at the wet gown form-fitting to Maddalena's naked body.

Then she turned to Kurtis and chewing each word, she said:

- _When you finish flirting with this slut_, I would like that you deign to come. Selma and I have to communicate you our next moves. Furthermore, _what would Monteleone think if he saw you fooling around with his whore?_

The ginger girl flushed a third time, humiliated and angry. She was no longer feeling beautiful or desirable, because that unfortunate had crushed her beneath her boot. But the pride of Maddalena had its time to carve, and casting a look of contempt for Lara, she snapped:

- Low these fumes, little daddy's girl. Not all of us have had the privilege of being born with her ass in cotton pillows.

Not giving time to reply, she turned and walked away, treading the sand furiously at every step even it made her tremble with pain.

_That nasty woman ... that... damned bitch!_

(…)

- So you can see. - Lara said the next morning, while adjusting her belt with fury – I went to the river and caught him talking to Monteleone's bitch. And then he goes with that I'm playing with fire in hiding the scepter.

- I believe - Selma solemnly said, brushing her long dark hair - it was pure chance. They would meet so by chance.

- I really don't know why I'm not surprised that you defend him. - Lara growled.

- I really don't know why I'm not surprised that you attack him. - grunted Selma.

They looked each other for a moment, and then both laughed.

- What is it? Did I miss a good joke? - Zip crooned, lifting the canvas of the tent - Hey, Lara, you have to take the communicator with you, please, please.

- Communicator? - asked Selma.

The boy put his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small metal object like a button.

- This you see, princess, was given to me by one of my past clients, a real big fish. It captures every sound with great fidelity. Lara only has to carry it in her pocket, now when you talk to this guy, and I will transcribe what you hear while in the computer, which will be very useful.

That morning, Lara and Selma had decided to go to see the Sicilian capo in a "courtesy visit" with which they sought to find out more of the scepter, if he knew, and step into make believe him they were still looking for it.

- Okay. - Lara sighed, and put the gadget in her pocket - But if I hear you doing the slightest noise, I'll crush this thing and then I'll crush you. We don't want Monteleone to note we're using spy equipment.

On leaving the camp, Lara saw Kurtis sitting near his tent, half reclining on his knapsack. She was shocked to see he was holding a sheet and he was drawing something with a pencil. So he went back to drawing ... What would he be drawing?

He looked up and then their eyes met. She quickly looked away, while reluctantly recalled the first time she saw his drawings, back in Egypt, in the midst of a raging sandstorm...

(…)

- Please, ladies, make you comfortable here. - playfully told the _mafioso_, while Lara and Selma seated at two sofas, within that huge store that looked like the tent of an Arab sheik.

Then he sat on a couch twice as large than that for his guests, and with a lazy gesture he said:

- Maddalena, _carissima_, bring us some Martinis for a snack.

The beautiful prostitute, waiting in a corner of the room, turned and, before leaving, glared badly at Lara, who returned her an innocent smile.

_Molto bene_, - the boss sighed, pleased – it's a pleasure that two women as educated and trained as you have come to this humble document restorer. Shortly I will explain what I know about this valuable scepter, and I promise not to omit any detail, but perhaps you have more level and no doubt about it, so I beg you to be lenient with me.

Lara became hysterical with so many words. Although she brought up in an environment in which mention was made that way, she had never been used to that. But she would have to make use of her patience if she wanted to treat that individual.

Maddalena reappeared again, and to the amusement of Lara, she only brought two Martinis. She offered one to Monteleone and the other to Selma. She left without giving anything to Lara.

- Where from to start? - muttered the _mafioso_, taking a sip from the cup - Ah, yes! I'll begin at the beginning, if you don't care. Have you heard about the Lux Veritatis?

- It sounds me. - Lara replied innocently.

- What do our expert in Jewish mythology know about it? - said the _mafioso,_ turning back to Selma.

The Turkish girl hesitated before answering:

- The Lux Veritatis is said to be a knighthood born in the fifteenth century which had not only bastions and headquarters in the countries of Medieval Europe, but also in places like Syria or Egypt. Outwardly they appeared to be a militia of monks in the service of Christ, but their real mission was to fight against hybrid creatures known as Nephilim in the Aramaic language. They were also in charge of protecting the victims of these hybrids, and were rumored to possess some psychic abilities such as telekinesis or clairvoyance.

- Excellent. - applauded Monteleone - I see your intellectual fame is more than justified, miss Al-Jazeera. In that case, I will not dwell more on introductions so I'll go directly to the crux of the matter.

_Thanks God_, Lara muttered quietly.

Monteleone made an indication to Maddalena and then she came forward presenting a wooden casket. She left it on the table and pulling out a key, opened it. Inside there were documents written on parchment that seemed very old. Giving a quick glance, Lara found that were written in Vulgar Latin.

- I was fortunate to receive comprehensive training in Latin by my illustrious uncle, who is cardinal in the Holy See. - continued Monteleone - If I may, I will read with pleasure these sheets containing interesting and reliable information about the Scepter.

- What are they? - then said Lara.

The gangster smiled with a mysterious smile.

- Oh... the manuscript is written in the handwriting of Hugo Van Der Brieck. Maybe the name does not sound to you... but he lived in the fifteenth century... and he was a Lux Veritatis.

Selma and Lara exchanged a surprised glance, to Monteleone's delight, pleased to be the center of attention.

Without further ado, the boss took the first page and began to translate:

_"Something happened that changed my life completely. I still don't quite know whether to hide or reveal this to the Grand Master. I know this is not right. Finally, after all, it's a doomed artifact, begotten by darkness, and I found it in the hands of an idol of the devil. But what it has given to me has been so great that I must face the facts. My act has been the greatest of sins, but has given me the most good. I write this in the year of 1486, hoping to clear my conscience, as my mouth does not dare reveal my fault._

_My twin brother and I were born with two hours of separation. The delivery killed my mother, God rest her soul, and while still infants we were raised by other women of the Order. Soon we both expressed the Don, and our father was proud of us, but fate prepared for us no good. Anger, envy, jealousy, distanced us from each other, and when after my father's death we were so full enemies that the Order was ashamed of us, we who should have been united as brothers and soldiers against demons and their leader, the Dark Alchemist. The Grand Master forced us to fight side by side to see if the danger made reborn our fraternity, but it was indifferent to me if he had been murdered._

_Everything changed when we got to Turkey. In this land of infidels, evil permeates the air. We found the city under the rocks of Cappadocia, we call it Tenebra. But we were forbidden to venture down there. There were too many of them there. We could have been exterminated._

_Then one day my twin challenged me to descend to the city without telling the Grand Master. We were both adults and my brother had to take a wife, but we fall into temptation as two brainless children. Down there a true hell was waiting for us."_

- Here ends the first scroll. - Monteleone said, leaving the sheet on the table and taking the next - This one continues much later. What had been lost in the middle never came into my hands.

_"I do not want to talk about this. The horror is too strong. Suffice it to say that my brother and I managed to reach the city. We should not have go on. It was madness. They neither see us, nor heard us, but our punishment would be greater._

_I begged my twin to go back, but he scoffed at me. He ran away and I followed him. He entered a kind of temple and I found him at the foot of a statue. When I remember its beauty, I shudder. It was a female angel, naked and girt with snakes, and in her right hand she was holding a silver scepter. From her beauty emanated a patent perversity. It was the image of a devil, a pagan monstrosity. I yelled to my brother to go away from her. But he didn't listened. Enthralled by the beauty of the goddess, he climbed to her waist and kissed her stone lips. What wickedness! Not still satisfied with that, he took the rod and tried to pull it from the statue. I shouted again. I asked him to leave the scepter and go away from the demonic idol. But he ignored me. Silver was too beautiful and he was already corrupted. I pounced on him and tried to pull him away from there... and then I fainted._

_I do not know if writing this. They might think I'm crazy, but I swear it's true. I dreamed in my unconscious, about the life of my brother. Our fingers touched the cursed scepter, so we plunged into darkness. I dreamed of him and he dreamed of me. Both saw fragments of our intertwined lives. We saw our mother suffering and dying for giving us life. I watched my brother grow stronger; I saw scenes from his life when I had not been present. And I was convinced that my hatred towards him had been unfair, that I only had him and he was my only brother, whom I should love. And I realized that jealousy and envy were those who had estranged us, and that both had been selfish to only think on each one and not worry about each other._

_When we awaken, we felt that we were unable to continue hating ourselves. He was my dear brother; no one deserved my love and loyalty more than him. And then all that years of hatred and misunderstanding meaningless vanished."_

Monteleone stopped again, left the sheet and took another sip of Martini. He cleared his throat, took another sheet and smiled:

- Miss Croft, do you seem really shocked. Are you all right?

- Perfectly. - she said hoarsely.

- Let's go ahead then. This is the last page...

_"... and he was killed. He could not leave, as I left, the Damned City. I know they were seeking the scepter which we had stolen them. Damn them! They killed him, my dear brother. Only I survive. Both me and this demonic scepter._

_My sin is too great. I disobeyed. We walked into the town without the Grand Master's permission. We touched a cursed idol, kiss her lips, and stole her Evil instrument. As I write this, I'm seeing it shining at the light of my lantern, glistening silver in all its beauty. It's cursed, I'm sure. And in my bed lies my brother's widow, whom I have espoused to keep her and raise her child in her womb, who is also my brother's child._

_I have to confess all this sooner or later. Confess what we did. But not before getting rid of this monstrous artifact. I'll return it. I'll put it again in the fallen angel's hands, from whom we stole it. I'll go down to Tenebra again, and I will get rid from what we did, to be finally at peace._

_I don't fear death. Whatever it is, it will take me back with my twin. And although this scepter gave me the greatest gift of my life, which was learn to love again who was the blood of my blood, it came too late for us. He was grabbed from me when I realized that he was the only one to whom I should love and cherish above all mortals._

_My brother, my brother... what did we do? "_

The _mafioso_'s voice went out for a while and in the tent weighed a long silence. Lara was pale, transfigured, and stared fixedly at the pile of papers on the table.

Monteleone coughed:

- So... I suppose you'll agree that this is certainly fascinating.

- To me it seems a little fantastic. - Selma said, wincing.

- Certainly. - corroborated the capo.- But, if indeed you know anything of the subject, you'll know that the Lux Veritatis bend them with an oath of truth that keeps them from any lie in all their years of life. The Lux Veritatis who lies is punishable by death.

- You speak as if the Order were still alive. - Selma astutely said, leaning across the table.

- Oh... I think it's still alive. But then we'll go to that. – he turned to Lara – You're very quiet, _signorina_. I gather my scrolls have impressed you.

- Where do you get it? - Lara said in reply.

- Oh... well... from the Vatican Library. Question of influences.

- With his uncle the cardinal? - Lara grinned.

- With my uncle the cardinal. I'm his favorite nephew. – he laughed cunningly - Well, my lovely ladies, what conclusion to draw at that?

Lara shook her head and said:

- In fact, information is scarce. Perhaps it's the remorseful tale of an amazed who fainted when touching the rod.

- And how you explain that his brother had visions, too? How do you explain that these visions will change the soul to the point he started to love again whom he hated from childhood?

Lara smiled softly:

- I don't believe in old granny's tales, _signore_. What use has a device that changes people's feelings? Better yet, an artifact which causes a change of heart by visualizing the life of another person who has touched the rod at the same time than you. – she shook his head - It's just a bunch of malarkey, mere coincidences.

Monteleone leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing.

- Maybe. But for me the story is completely true. Lilith's Scepter is a real device, and I intend to find it.

- Excuse me? - then jumped Selma - How did you call it?

- Sorry. I said Lilith's Scepter. The name was invented by me, of course, after checking the statue's iconographic issues described by Van Der Brieck corresponds to the Babylonian goddess Lilith.

- Who was known by the Hebrew tradition as the first wife of Adam, the same who became devil to be delivered to Samael, the Fallen Angel, also called Lucifer on the Christian tradition.

- Exactly.

Lara had been pondering in silence as Selma spoke. Then she again intervened:

- Why you're interested in having that rod?

- I'm an antiquarian, _signorina_. I think my reasons are obvious.

- And there is an interest ... more particular, may I say?

- Do you mean for its possible powers? Oh come on, I don't really think it would have too much effect on me. I'm already madly in love with my Maddalena – and he threw a loving glance to the prostitute – We don't need a silver stick to get our ties closer, right, _carissima?_

(…)

- What a... bunch... of crap. - Lara grunted as she returned to stride towards the camp, followed by Selma, who was puffing to reach her.

- Wait, Lara, by God's sake! - gasped the other - At least, he has had the courtesy to share information with us. Not every day you have access to Vatican archives!

The explorer stopped short.

- You are right. But ... damn! – she grabbed her head with both hands - Why did this happen to me?

- What? – the Turkish girl looked scared.

Lara lowered her voice:

- Down there, something happened that I didn't tell you. Something amazing.

- Even worse than the putrid pit or the crosses? - she said with a grimace of disgust.

- No... Look, I tried to take the scepter from Lilith' statue, remember? And Kurtis tried to stop me...

- Yes, yes. - said the other, and then her eyes lit up. - Well, as twins Van Der Brieck did!

- There are more matches! Kurtis and I lost consciousness, and as far as I know, I had...

- Visions of his life?

Lara nodded. Selma watched her openmouthed, and then she whispered:

- So… well... have you fallen in love with him again?

- By God's sake, Selma, don't say nonsense! - Lara broke, blushing.

- So says the scroll! – replied the other.

- To hell with the scroll! The guy who wrote that was bitter to be so much mean with his brother, you know? And when he was killed, he regretted having wasted his life with him and mourned his death. But I'm sure that the feelings Monteleone said about are genuine crap! Don't you remember, Selma? The Nephilim couldn't love! They didn't distinguish between Good and Evil! How the hell would distinguish such thing anything created by them? Because there's no doubt that the scepter has been created by them.

Selma nodded.

- Okay, okay. But then what should we do now?

- I don't know. I have to think.

She strode away again, and when she was far away, Selma growled to herself:

- Oh dear! For a useful thing that could have made that bloody scepter...


	17. Chapter 16: Bare truths

**Chapter 16: Bare truths**

Lara had had the good sense to quietly turn off Zip's communicator after ending the conversation with Monteleone, so the subsequent dialogue with Selma was not recorded. By transmitting the recording to his computer, Zip led that everything could be heard also by Kurtis, who at the end of hearing all that frowned.

- Well? - Selma said, anxious - What do you think?

- I agree with Lara. - he answered - Although provided a situation like that one described by Van Der Brieck, Monteleone's theory about feelings is the biggest bullshit I've heard in my life.

Lara smiled. She didn't know why, but she was sure he would be wise.

- Still - Kurtis stated – there's something I don't like in that guy's voice. I think there's much more about this and he's hiding it.

- Yes, I also noticed that. - Zip said, making a chewing gum bubble – He has a bastard's little voice, with all the courtesy that goes on each one of the words he drop. It's as if he wanted to go with good vibes.

- But he can't fool on me. - said Lara – And also I don't like anything of this. I think he knows more about all this, and I'll pry that.

- Maybe we should tell him that we have the scepter. - said Selma.

- Yes, of course. And then I would apologize for having "forgotten" it for four days.

- No, woman. Just pretend you've just found it.

Kurtis shook his head and said:

- If you did that, in less than a jiffy he would be here with all his squadron and he'll grab the rod from our hands. Then this guy probably will return to Sicily and the rod would end being studied by a Vatican's sacred crock.

- Wait, wait. - Zip said - That guy works for the Vatican? It was not a mafia?

- The Vatican has close contacts with the Italian Mafia. - Lara said – It's not unusual to see cases in which many _mafiosi_'s families have relatives serving as cardinals and archbishops who offer them protection and support. Monteleone is an example, if not it's impossible to explain who he had access to the Vatican's Library secret archives.

- Mother of God. - grumbled the boy. - So we are deep sunk in shit.

- Never too late to realize. - Kurtis said sarcastically.

Then it came a moment of silence. Selma ended up by breaking silence.

- Well, with or without scepter, the excavation must continue. The city is there and its remains are still the main claim of our mission. This is the dream of my career and I will not waste it neither for a foul silver rod, nor because all the _Cosa Nostra_ is beyond me. I've sacrificed enough of my life. - she said quietly.

(…)

That night, Lara could not sleep. She was thinking about everything what happened in Tenebra. She was convinced that, while the fact of sharing memories had to do with the Scepter, it surely was not a thing of the Scepter itself that she was beating around the bush. No device could control her mind. It was just her who controlled herself.

At the end she rose. Selma was sleeping peacefully beside her and she left the tent quietly so not to disturb her. Slowly she moved through the camp, until arriving at the stream that ran between their camp and the Italians' one. At that one some lights were still on and she can hear from afar the laughter of the prostitutes. Well, they also didn't sleep too much.

She leaned over the water to rinse her face. She used to sleep with tank top and a small cloth shorts tracksuit, now slightly damp with sweat. She pulled her hair down in a bun to cool the neck and stared silently at the starry sky of Turkey.

- _Milady_ has insomnia?

She turned. Kurtis was there, sitting a few yards away, at the foot of a rock, while smoking parsimoniously.

- Is this heat. - she lied - It sticks to my skin. But I still haven't seen you asleep... you seem to like this place. – she added slyly, making clear reference to the previous meeting with Maddalena.

- It's cool. Also, I sleep little. I usually watch most of the night.

- Why? - she smiled – The workers are taking turns.

- Yes, of course ... go out there and you'll see all of them snoring by the fire.

Lara laughed, though she promised herself to give a good scolding to those lazy.

- In fact – then she said hastily - I wanted to talk to you.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

- It's... about what happened in Tenebra ... or Eden ... when I extracted the Scepter.

Kurtis smiled, puffed his cigar and blew the smoke slowly.

- So that's it, not the heat, which keeps you awake.

- How the hell are you doing that?

- What?

- Being so keen!

- It's good to survive. - he smiled again and took another drag on his cigarette.

Damn. He was _so_ hot. And that did not help getting down. She decided to sit on the floor because she felt suddenly her legs very heavy.

- I didn't notice anything strange in you when you learned this afternoon what had happened to Van Der Brieck brothers... but you know as well as me that the same thing happened to us. I saw someone else's life memories and I'm sure you did too.

He did not answer right away. He threw the butt on the ground and stepped on. He was staring in the distance when whispered:

- What did you see, Lara?

- I saw memories that were not mine. I saw... I saw a little boy hugging his mother in a basement, while upstairs they were torturing a helpless old man... – she shuddered at the memory - I also saw a teenager who first saw his father, a wife who was reunited with her husband after fifteen years... finally I saw – she concluded, staring at him – a Legionnaire wounded in the line.

Kurtis was looking away. Then he murmured:

- Yes... that's me. What a life, huh? – he looked at her with bitterness – It wouldn't be good even for a reality show.

Lara did not answer.

- But ... - he continued - what I saw was just as hard, but you came off better than me. I saw you crawling through the snow, escaping from a crashed plane. I saw you after confronting with the moral dilemma of taking up a gun for the first time, and finally I saw you fighting the hardest of your battles, dealing with your parents to achieve the freedom to decide the course of your life.

She shook her head, confused.

- I don't know why this has happened... I just know that it has helped me to think.

- The same way which helped Hugo Van Der Brieck to think?

- To hell with this guy. I know what I feel, and I'm sure that any silver rod is manipulating me right now.

She rose, as he looked interested at her. Lara came towards him and stood just three feet away.

- Forgive me. - she said, and she did not recognize her own voice.

He looked stunned.

- What?

- Forgive me .- she repeated, and thanked the darkness for hiding her face, which was burning like an ember - For all that I told you, and for my attitude since we met again in Meteora. You were right. Selma was right. I behaved like a spoiled brat. I have been guided by my pride and selfishness, and I was only able to think of myself. I'm sorry. It won't happen again.

She turned and started to leave, but then Kurtis grabbed her arm.

- Look at me, Lara.

She shook her head. The situation was too uncomfortable.

- How strange - he murmured - the same woman who glared at me when I left her locked in the Bio Dome is not now able to look up.

Lara smiled and slowly raised her eyes to meet again with those blue eyes so rare, so dark.

- You're red! - he laughed.

- The heat. - she mumbled.

- You're lying again. I wonder why. I thought you were accustomed to flattery.

_Not to this kind of flattery_, she thought. So sincere. So natural.

- Kurtis – she hurriedly said - I think I owe you an explanation for my behavior... if something like this admits an excuse. Two years ago, when you left... Well, at that time I understood what you meant, and now I've seen how cruel has been your life, I understand you even more. But eventually I started to miss you. I continued with my life, my exploration campaigns, but you... you had disappeared from the map.

She paused. He was listening at her in silence, as always he did while she spoke, since she knew him. He was always listening.

- I never thought you were dead. Maybe I wouldn't believe it; despite the strange life you led... so unreal life that put you in constant danger of death. After a few months I couldn't kept thinking of you... it had spent a year and when I started looking for you.

- Looking for me? Me? - he said, surprised.

- Yes - she laughed – I'm able to found places and things that nobody would have bet a penny to their existence, and instead I couldn't find you. Nobody knew you, nobody had ever seen you. It was as if you never had existed. In some places someone had heard about you, but it was the best I came to know. – she shook her head - I was desperate. I got angry and stopped looking for you. I decided the easiest option was to hate you for having come and gone in my life so quickly, reaching even thinking I had forgotten you. I'm proud when I get angry, and also totally thoughtless. I solved my troubles by adopting a selfish attitude and I cursed you, blaming you, and I decided to forget you. But I just couldn't. During these two years all I wanted was to see you again, and when it finally happens... you see how I reacted.

She sighed, and then he fixed his eyes on her wooden colored eyes, which again showed their pride.

- Well, I've apologized. Now it's you who must apologize to me.

- Lara, I told you...

- Yes, yes, the Lux Veritatis, responsibility, honor and all that. But like it or not, Mr. Trent, you left me aside, abandoned, and I can't forgive that. I can apologize for my attitude, but something is still pending.

She walked up to him to stay a few inches from his face:

- Your mother is here in Turkey, right?

He was stunned.

- How do you know?

- Only suspected. You were absent several days before coming here... you were with her. I've seen her in my dream, my vision, and I have concluded that only an extraordinary woman, a strong and brave woman like few others, could have endured living the life she has led, for the sake of her own people. One needs to be really strong to love a Lux Veritatis, right? Years of fear, suffering, loneliness. Certainly not all women could resist such a life, am I right?

Kurtis nodded.

- And then - continued Lara, chewing every word – for all the demons' sake, Kurtis! _What made you think I'm not that kind of woman?_

He opened his mouth... and closed it again. He was run out of words.

- Let me tell you that sometimes your so overprotective attitude is suffocating. Look at me, Kurtis, I'm not just any common kind of woman. You've seen me fight and challenge the world, breaking chains that held me tight in the environment where I was born. I'm not a tender. I fight to get what I want, and whoever pisses me off, I blow his brains out. But noooo, _you had to protect me_, you had to turn me away from that dark world of yours in which you thought I would not survive... You insulted me! Did Konstantin tell the woman he loved to stay at home safe and forget about it? Because if he had done such thing, you wouldn't be here, confronting the same dilemma! I know sometimes I'm stubborn and probably I'm talking too much right now, but no one but you had ever done this to me!

She stopped a moment to catch her breath, in which she used to withdraw a lock of wet hair from her forehead.

- Or what is the same: - she continued, puffing out her chest and crossing her arms - that's enough about compliments of doomed hero and gentlemen to me. I'm not afraid of pain or death. I have no fear of all the demons, monsters and abominations that may be lurking out there. Your cause is my cause and your enemies are also mine. I'm as good for this as it was your mother. Only that she separated from the man she loved and I will not. Wherever you are, I will be, when you fight, I'll fight by your side, and to hell with everything else! I won't be left aside again. So if you return to vanish without a trace on the pretext that try to "protect" me from your doomed fate, I swear this time I'll find you wherever you go, I'll cut your bollocks and serve them on a platter to the manticores. Do I make myself clear?

- With crystal clarity. - he mumbled.

And then he laughed. He laughed and laughed until tears come to his eyes as she watched him, barely concealing a smile. It was so strange to see him laugh... he who almost never laughed.

- Oh, _milady_, sorry for having offended you so much! - he said, and laughed again - God, Lara, you have no idea what they have been these two years.

- Yes, I do. - she was serious now - An eternity.

- An eternity. - he repeated.

Suddenly, in an almost imperceptible movement, he took her face in his hands and kissed her mouth. Lara's stomach distended and she hugged him tightly. Now she was feel that again, she noticed how much she needed to kiss him again.

- How can you do this? – she whispered when their lips parted - I have treated you like crap!

- It doesn't matter. I'm glad this is over, because I was going crazy. But I suspected something when you scare the poor Maddalena. You had such jealous face you should have seen.

She went back, altered.

- So much noticeable? By God's sake, this whore has her eye on you! Not even you realized how she looks at you. Just what I needed.

- Then - Kurtis said solemnly - I'm so sorry for her. For some time ago I can only think of a woman... exactly two years and four months.

Lara laughed again and soon was kissing him back now. She had almost forgotten the soft texture of his lips and that way of kissing he had, half sweet and half aggressive. Once again she regretted she had delayed that so long time. She kissed him harder, adhering herself to his body.

Kurtis's fingers slid slowly from her face to her neck, down her throat. By stroking her neck's skin, he noticed under his fingertips the violent beating of her heart. He went down to her shoulders, he gently lowered her top's straps, and then he stopped.

- No doubt. - she whispered .- We have lost too much time.

She took the top around the edges and pulled it over her head. She wore nothing underneath. Then she took off his shirt and hugged him again, crushing her soft breasts against his hard chest while kissing became more violent. She had the strange impression that someone was listening or watching them, but she did not care anymore.

The rest of their clothes were ripped by almost twitching, breathing hard. Lara thought her heart was going to jump from her chest. Darkness covered the stream's margin and she barely saw Kurtis, but she was guided by touch. She walked with her hands across his tanned muscular body, she kissed his chest, and she continued with the tip of her tongue the contour of his scars. Suddenly the world around them had vanished and there were only just she and he, and she even had even forgotten that, hours before, she still had a grudge against him.

Resentments, misunderstandings, selfishness and pride were boundless buried under a blanket of sweat and saliva. Nothing more mattered. She loved him, not as he loved her, for he had loved her almost from the first time he had seen her, but she had been gradually falling in love with him. She had taken three years and four months to realize that it was useless to resist the evidence, and that the exchanged kisses long ago were not enough for him or her. But now it did not care anymore. All she wanted now was that, and she knew it was something that she will not regret.

When at last her body was mixed and fused with him, lying on the ground beneath the starry sky, she noticed she had been wishing him since she met him for the first time in Meteora. She dug her teeth into his shoulder to stifle her moans, which might have awakened the whole camp, before abandoning herself to that ecstasy.

All around the world seemed to contain the silence.

(…)

Zip was watching engrossed his computer screen. He could feel cold sweat sliding down his back.

- Mother of God. - he sputtered.

There it was. The camera was playing it with fidelity.

Selma, who was nearby, peered over his shoulder and held back a scream.

- Is it..?

- Yes, princess. What a beastie.

Finally, the boy had managed to run the little camera that Lara had installed on the putrid pit's roof, the second time she had descended. And now it reproduced the image of those awful fangs, still parsimoniously grinding its gigantic amount of food.

- If someone tells me about this I would never believe. - Zip said again, tapping to zoom - Look, Selma... it eats corpses. Where the hell it gets the bodies from?

- It's clear that someone brings them to it. - said a deep voice behind him.

He turned. Kurtis had entered and sat in a chair to finish buckling his boot.

- But... who? - Said Selma.

- Not _who_ but _what_. - continued the man - While you were talking with the mafia's boss, I went to the villages around to ask. There have been disappearances of adults and the elderly. - making a gesture, he pointed to the screen – So there you have them, being digested by that thing. Children don't interest at this, they're too small to fill it.

- What a horror! - cried the archaeologist.

- It's the manticores. - continued Kurtis – They have strong jaws. They are filled with one or two victims. That is not their way of killing. They take it more calmly. They paralyze the victim with their poison, they suck the blood until drain off, and then chew the meat to peel. But they are also the ones who put food on that thing. They are able to drag a body for miles by holding the neck's victim with thei jaws.

- Holy God! - Selma was pale - Who told you that?

- No one. I've seen it with my own eyes.

The boy returned to cast a glance at the screen.

- Well, I pity those poor people. Probably they were still alive when that thing ate them.

- Alive but unconscious. At least the manticores' venom makes lose consciousness.

Zip fumbled the table for the gum box, took one and put it in his mouth.

- I feel that that thing is like a guardian. – he mumbled while chewing - The Nephilim put that there to eat unwanted visitors.

Kurtis smiled cynically.

- Do you think this bug can distinguish between desired and unwanted visitors?

- At least it wouldn't touch the Nephilim... I would say.

- I'm not so sure. It also eats manticores... which are those that feed it. The truth is that among demons there are no rules.

- Why were these manti-not-know-what to feed it? What's in it?

- I have no answer. - Kurtis said, rising- What matters now is to be careful. Thus far, these creatures are content with around village's people. But as they get tired of dragging bodies through the desert and decide to get their hands on those who are closer... we'll going to have problems.

At that time the tent's canvas opened and Lara entered.

- Oh my God! - mocked Zip - You look sleepless! Maybe a wild horse has passed over you?

- Come on, shut up. – she grunted. She turned back and said to Kurtis – They have left a body to the camp entrance. You should see it.

(…)

It was a Turkish guy's body, who was not more than nineteen years. He was lying on his side, with his face crushed to the ground in a horrible twist. Kurtis leaned over and gently pulled the turban covering her throat.

Selma groaned. His throat was severed and covered with a layer of dried blood.

- I was afraid of this. - he said, pointing to the pit - Note the irregular edge of the bite. How many rows of teeth do you account?

- Three. - Lara replied, and looked uneasy - Three rows of teeth?

Kurtis nodded, and then took the boy's face and turned it into the light. Selma gave a gasp and fell back covering her mouth with both hands.

The boy has a contorted face. His mouth was open and his eyes bulging. Rather, an eye, the other had disappeared, pecked by a crow or another prey's bird.

- Three rows of teeth in the throat and a look of panic on his face. This boy died watching his face disfigured. - Kurtis said – It's the sign. He has been attacked by a manticore.

Zip whistled.

- And, why did not eat it? Did perhaps it brought him to the big mouth that?

- No. - Kurtis sighed, again covering the boy's face – They are smart, very smart. They have left him here as a warning. Next time, who will be killed, will be one of ours. And other and another. Until we change our minds and leave. They don't want us here, digging in the city of the masters whom they served and worshiped.

There was silence. Selma had covered her face with her hands and sobbed quietly.

- Hey, princess, don't cry. - said Zip, passing his arm over her shoulders. - You'll see how it's arranged.

- It never will be arranged. – she groaned - Everything happens again. I found them the same way. Oh, God... they were all like this... with their throat open... my people... my Ahmad... oh... slaughtered... that monster, that Alchemist, ordered so... oh ...

- But that guy is dead, princess. Lara killed him. And Kurt killed the other, the blond one. They have no one to rule them right now.

- And so they are now more dangerous. – Lara said with a pessimistic voice.

- Hey, I'm trying to cheer her! – the boy protested.

Selma now openly wept on his shoulder. The old ghosts of the past came back to her.


	18. Chapter 17: The silver bullet

**Chapter 17: The silver bullet**

_At first, he saw only darkness. Then he saw her, sitting, lifting her wooden coloured eyes to the gun that was pointing at her. She had no time to react._

_The bullet, which was small and made of silver, struck to her heart, next to the left breast. Everything happened very fast but he saw it slowly. He saw a jet of blood that soaked into the white fabric of her shirt. Then she began to slide off the chair._

_He tried to catch her, but she fell. And she stared at the ceiling, with open eyes, dead, while beneath her it was widening a dark pool of blood._

He sat up abruptly, letting out a scream. He took a few moments to catch his breath.

She was there beside him, naked and asleep. It had just been a nightmare. He laid again, fixing his gaze on the tent's ceiling, while the sweat ran down his back.

- Are you okay? - he heard her murmuring sleepily at his side.

- Sleep, Lara. It has only been a nightmare.

She lifted her head, and a lock of brown hair half covered her face. She pulled it away.

- What did you dream?

- Nothing.

She smiled.

- You lie really bad. Maybe it's because your people forced you to swear against lying.

- Did Monteleone tell you that?

- At least through him I could find out more things about your people. You never talk about yourself.

He remained silent. Lara spread her fingers and touched his shoulder, where it remained the abrupt burn scar which, two years before, had disfigured the rough tattoo that identified him as a Lux Veritatis. There was no longer any sign under the rough, scarred skin.

- Have you ever thought on remake the tattoo?

- Why? There is no one whom I should account.

- But you're still hunting demons.

- Because they're after me. They're attracted towards me. The Cabal was not my only enemy. Yes, it was the worst.

She sat up and swung her hair to her back.

- I am struck by one thing from you. - then Kurtis said, watching her soft curves – You don't have a single scar.

She laughed.

- Instead, you look like a Christ!

- Thank you. - he growled.

- Take it as a compliment! Do you know that Roman legionaries and gladiators stuck to see which of them had more scars? They were like medals of honor. And if there were none in the back it was even better, because it meant they had never given their back to the enemy to flee. Or so they thought.

- I'm not a Roman. - he said - And the worst of my scars is in my back.

Lara came near his back and put her arms around his waist as she leaned her head against his shoulder.

- If you tell me what you dream, I'll tell you why I have not a single scar.

- I know you have them removed, Miss Aristocrat. Why are you so worried?

She was silent.

- Because you woke up screaming. That's not usual in you.

- You've only been four nights sleeping with me.

- Plenty enough for me. - she said smiling.

- Do you think someone might have noticed?

- Sooner or later... Oh God, Selma is going to get too annoying.

She closed her eyes. Soon, she heard again his voice:

- You'll laugh at me.

- I promise not to.

- I think it was a bad premonition. I dreamed that someone killed you with a silver bullet. – he turned towards her - You're smiling.

She lifted her head and looked at him. She smiled.

- I do not mock you. Hundreds of people have shot at me... as at you. These are perks of our jobs.

He shook his head.

- Protect yourself, Lara.

- Where? - she whispered, still smiling.

Kurtis hesitated. Then he stretched out his hand, followed with the fingertips the contour of her left breast, and finally hit a point next to it, almost in the centre of the sternum.

- Here. Right in the heart.

- I'll wear a shield. - teased her, and bent to kiss him.

(…)

Two days later, the Italian community received an unexpected visit.

The first to sight the dark figure was the beautiful Bay Li, who was sitting on a rock on the exterior of the camp, her long dark hair drying in the sun, while muttering under her breath as she combed herself. The Mediterranean sun burned her Chinese soft skin. A camp in the rocky desert was no place for a delicacy like her.

She looked up to see a shadow covering the sun. She torn squinted and said:

- Who are you?

- I'm seeking to Daniele Monteleone. - answered a sweet and musical voice, speaking from the depths of a thick hood.

- Show me the face. – the Chinese insisted.

The visitor dropped the hood and Bay Li saw a woman younger than herself, who seemed very beautiful even though she hadn't just found the appeal to Western women.

- Are you sure that there isn't Maddalena whom you're looking for? - Bay Li insisted, seeing her so beautiful than she should likely to be a young prostitute in search of support.

- I'm sure. - smiled the other, revealing a row of perfect white teeth.

Bay Li got up and guided her through the camp. As she passed, all men turned to see her, speechless. The Chinese captured a strange scent that seemed to come from the stranger's hair, which was even blacker than hers, which possessed the dark brilliance of Eastern women.

Arriving at Monteleone's tent, Bay Li called Maddalena and exchanged a few words with her. The visitor waited patiently. Finally, the ginger opened the tent.

The boss was sitting in his chair, drinking his Martini, and raised his eyebrows in surprise at seeing the woman.

_- Benvenutta signorina. Che parla l'italiano?_

- Perfectly. - smiled the other, sitting elegantly on a couch nearby.

- Maddalena told me that you weren't looking for her, so I conclude that...

- Indeed, I'm not a prostitute. I'm an art dealer and I come to give certain information that may interest you.

- About what?

The other smiled innocently.

- About the Scepter, of course. And also about the people who are right now across the brook.

Monteleone looked at her, stunned.

- You have my full attention_, signorina..._

- Bathsheba.

Maddalena carefully examined the woman. She did not like her. She, who chose the most beautiful women to give satisfaction to Monteleone's men, acknowledged that, despite being perfect, she never would have chosen her. She seemed a wolf in sheep's clothing. Too pretty to be good. She was convinced that she hid a den of depravity... and also her ominous name. It had been the name of a sinner, as every devotee should know. And Maddalena, though had rarely been allowed to set her foot in a church, was very pious.

_Your name is also a sinner's name, Maddalena._

She looked up, and met Bathsheba's green eyes. She went back, terrified. Was it she who had spoken? Or was it her delusions? Shivering, she turned and left the tent.

Monteleone had not noticed anything.

- Please, tell me.

- I have to give you a series of warnings. - said Bathsheba - If you let me.

- Go ahead. You have me intrigued.

- Lara Croft is making fun of you.

The boss looked at her dumbfounded.

- In God's name, what does that mean?

Bathsheba bowed, and with a sweet smile, whispered:

- She's been making fun of you from the first day. When you first saw her, she already had the Scepter in her possession. She already had stolen it, tearing it from Liliht's statue. Now it's in her power and comes every day to steal information from you, while all them there are laughing at you.

Monteleone remained silent for a few moments. In his handsome face was painted a grim expression.

- How do you know that? Why should I believe you?

- You can believe me or not, and risk yourself to have them continue laughing at you, or take action on the matter. As for my sources, I'm sorry but I prefer to continue keeping them hidden. I'm interested in the Scepter as much as you, as a matter of my profession. And the truth is I'd rather see it in the hands of a professional like you than in that cheesy robber's hands.

He remained silent, though he looked irritated. He rubbed his chin with relish.

- So she made fun of me... well, well. But something else has to be in this. Why did you come to me? You could get the Scepter, stealing it or negotiating with them.

- I already said why. Anyway, there is something more that interests me.

- Tell me an amount.

- I don't want money. I want a man.

Monteleone was again blown away.

- A man?

- Yes, he's in the English camp. And I want him alive. From him you must not touch a single hair of his head.

- Who is him?

- The man who is with Lara Croft at all times. Kurtis Trent is called.

- It shall be as desired. But... curious if I may ... why are you so interested in him?

- His head is priceless. A price both me and my people want to charge.

A sly smile crossed the face of the _mafioso_.

- _Paso lungo e bucca curta_.

- Don't be fooled. We are not a mafia like you. But he is ours. You delivered him to us and we will have the rest.

- And what interest could be in such man? It's just a poor devil. I never heard him barely open his mouth.

Bathsheba smiled again. So sweetly.

I've said too much, _signore_ Monteleone. Have a nice day. _Ciao_.

(…)

The next morning, while reviewing all documents and maps drawn to the referent of the excavation, Selma and Lara were surprised by the visit of Sciarra, Monteleone's favorite man. He stood boldly in the middle of the tent.

- _Il signore_ Monteleone is pleased to invite _signorina_ Croft to his tent to try new ways about the subject which is employing you. - he announced with mocking voice, glancing obscene at Selma, who looked away, uncomfortable.

- Selma is the excavation's director. - Lara challenged, frowning - She should come with me.

- What is it, little English girl? Are you afraid I may eat you? - Sciarra laughed.

Lara threw the compass on the maps and passed beside him, whispering:

- Fear me instead, you middling cocky.

Sciarra stared for a moment the gentle sway of Lara's hips as she was heading towards the camp of the mafia. Then he followed her with a leisurely pace.

- So you're English. - he said as he followed her to the camp - Funny. I understood that all Englishwomen were ugly.

She did not even deign to answer.

- Also I understood you were a prude. But I see not, judging from what you were doing with that guy four nights ago, on the banks of the river.

- Did you enjoy the show? - she replied, without aminals, grinning with cynicism.

- Well, I'd rather not tell ... who would have enjoyed that should be that bitch of Maddalena, who dreams of your man from the first day. I would watch her if I were you... any Italian ginger is always more desirable than a skinny English.

Lara did not answer this time either, but she did not abandon her sarcastic expression.

(…)

- _Signorina_... is a pleasure to have you here again.

Lara suspiciously scrutinized Monteleone's face. A change had come over the _mafioso_'s face, no doubt about that. He seemed slightly tenser.

- Sit down, please. I want to tell you something.

She obeyed, and stared at the handsome fifty, who was spinning his eternal Martini with a nervous gesture.

- How to start? - he muttered - How to say I'm extremely disappointed with you? No, wait, don't say anything. I know everything. I know that from day one you've been hiding the Scepter in your possession. You're very clever, is not it? And you're strong. You believe that everyone else can bend themselves to your will, to make dance them like puppets to the sound of your movements. But believe me, Lara, you can't play with the _Cosa Nostra_, not even an aristocrat like you who think she has the world at her feet only because wherever she goes, takes what she wants by simply reaching out it. You think everything is yours and you appropriate whatever you see.

"And now look at me – he got up, standing with dignity - indeed, I'm not a brute. I'm so gentleman as any Englishman of your courtiers. I've treated you with respect and courtesy. I have been patient with you; I've shown you documents and provided information to which most mortals don't have access. I've opened my heart at you and you've been making fun of me, you and that multiracial gang that accompanies you. I've been undervalued, _signorina_, since I'm so able to use polite language as weapons. "

Lara sensed the danger long before he had finished his solemn speech. She was not armed, and when she saw the _capo_ putting his hand on the lapel of his coat, she jumped from her chair.

But Monteleone was quick and well trained. He took the tiny nickel-plated pistol at a speed that had nothing to envy to the best shooters, and fired.

And Lara only had time to raise her arm to cover her chest.

The tiny bullet, which was made of silver, entered her forearm, shattering the bone, pierced the flesh and plunged into her chest, at left breast height. The impact threw her back and she hit a trunk, fell backwards and lay on the ground, clutching her wounded arm while the blood flowed in torrents.

Maddalena ran in, and seeing the dantesque scene, gave a cry of horror.

- Daniele!

- Be quiet, _cara mia_, be quiet. - valmly replied the other, taking out a silk handkerchief and wiping the barrel of the gun - Nothing happens.

Lara let out a gasp and tried to sit up, but her bloody hands slipped on the top of the trunk and lay back. She bit her lip to keep from screaming.

Monteleone was up to her slowly, still holding the gun in his hand. He pulled a chair up to her and sat quietly in it.

- How curious. - he said - That bullet was aimed at your head. But first you lifted and then you put your arm in its way. God help me if I had ever seen a woman moving so fast. But you see, it was not fast enough. – he let out a sigh - I guess I should behave like a gentleman and kill off you, to avoid you from suffering, but these silver bullets are really expensive and I will not waste one more of them in your filthy person.

He put the pistol on the table and, turning to the horrified Maddalena, who was trembling in a corner, he said:

- Maddalena, beautiful, bring me another Martini. I will stay to keep company to _signorina _Croft until she bled to death. It wouldn't be polite to leave her alone, don't you think?

The prostitute stepped back, trembling, and left the tent. She stepped forward and then she hesitated. She looked back.

The canvas tent was splattered with blood where Lara was laying. She shuddered with horror, and soon, she turned and ran, not for search Monteleone's Martini, but towards the camp of the excavators.

(…)

Selma was with Kurtis when he, suddenly, stood up and touched his chest, as if he'd been stung.

- Are you okay? – she asked, alarmed.

He didn't answer. He pulled his hand away slowly and stared at it, as if expecting to see something in it. Then he looked up. With the horror painted on his face, he slapped away from the canvas' tent and went outside. Selma followed him, frightened, to see how Maddalena came running, her face as red as her hair.

She stopped a few steps from Kurtis, panting, fell to her knees and put her hand over her heart while she was breathing laboriously, trying to catch her breath because of the race that had been cast into.

- Kurtis! – she gasped when she saw him - Oh, my God ...!

She choked. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her.

- What happened? _What the hell happened?_

Selma stared dumbfounded at that woman whom she hardly knew, but had come to them without hesitation to say that...

- The English woman... Lara... there... shot down...

That was enough. Kurtis dropped her and ran into the Italian camp, ignoring Selma's cries.

- What the hell is going on? - Zip yelled, emerging from his tent and ripping his MP3 headphones.

- Lara is hurt! - daid Selma - I don't know how...! Hey, wait!

Maddalena, deaf to the conversation of the two young people, had risen again and again ran towards the Italian camp.

She didn't know what had her driven to seek him, to call him. But she knew she should not have done that. She had to get him away from there before something terrible happens.

_Holy God, Daniele, what have you done?_

(…)

Lara managed to move her good arm, but each movement meant a trial. Through the red haze that clouded her eyes, he saw Monteleone looking around and wondering why her diligent Maddalena was taking so much time.

- You and your damned Martinis. – she sputtered - I hope they will kill you.

- Say what you like, love. - he replied smiling - Here you are dying and I'm here alive and kicking. You have brutalized your own memory and I kept my honor. So things are.

He leaned towards her.

- I'll tell you one thing. I think you've the right to know it, now you're going to die. Yesterday came a woman, an informer, who told me the joke that you were doing to me. Do you want to know the only thing she asked in return? Your friend's head, that Kurtis Trent.

The comment made the desired effect. Lara's eyes widened. She tried to say something, but no words came out. Her chest ached horribly.

- That woman... she said her name was Bathsheba. Oh, so you know her! Well, you should have been more cautious with your enemies. It would have me worried a lot to have an enemy to move the wires so sophisticatedly. But you're too proud and confident. I don't know why this woman wants your friend, but he clearly will not survive you for long...

He had no time to finish his sentence. Suddenly, a loud noise, like a birdie, made him turn his head. What he saw was a sharp curved blade that ripped up and down the tent's canvas and discovered the falling figure of Kurtis. The terrible expression on his face completed a picture able to terrify the bravest person on the earth.

Monteleone took the gun and jumped from his chair. He fired. The bullet whizzed by the head of Kurtis, who was leaning slightly to one side. Then charged against the _capo_ and knocked him down on the floor. The Italian struggled, holding the gun which Kurtis tried to rob, and began to shout:

- Sciarra! Sciarra! Came to me!

Kurtis silenced him with a punch that broke several front teeth. On the corner of his eye he saw Lara, who, covered with blood, made a superhuman effort to get up. Then she looked behind him and gasped:

- Kurtis...!

That warning was enough for him to went aside rolling on the floor. There was a shot that hit the wood of the trunk. At the entrance of the tent was Sciarra, wielding a shotgun.

But Kurtis was significantly faster than him. He jumped up, grabbed Monteleone by the neck, who had not yet recovered from the punch, and put the Chirugai's blade touching his throat:

- Move yourself an inch and I'll behead him. – he threatened.

Sciarra smiled with a cruel smile.

- I have no hurry. I can wait until your girlfriend bleeds to death. Although it would be a shame, since the poor girl would get bored before going to hell.

The blade's edge sank into Monteleone's flesh, who began to moan, while a trail of blood soaked his collar. Sciarra tightened his teeth.

- Kill him – he said, deflecting the barrel of his gun to Lara - and I'll command her to her final destination early.

At that time, there was a horrible crunch behind Sciarra. The assassin's gun slipped between his fingers, he rolled his eyes and collapsed on the floor. Maddalena appeared behind him, still holding a stool with both hands.

- Here you have, you bastard. – she spat through her teeth, throwing aside the stool.

- Maddalena? - stammered Monteleone - What are you doing?

She rose, smiling calmly.

- Saving your life, Daniele. – then she looked at Kurtis – Please, release him. Your friend is weak and she won't live long. I know he shot her, but I warned you about this, and now I beg you to leave this man.

Kurtis didn't hesitate. He threw the Mafioso to the floor with a push, and went towards Lara. Monteleone stared in amazement the unconscious body of his killer, and then he cast a look of hate to Kurtis:

- You won't escape for long, _figlio di putana!_ – he gurgled, spitting blood through his broken teeth – You soon will be caught by those who seek you!

He was not listening. He leaned over Lara, who put her healthy arm around his neck, and then he lifted her like a child.

- Let's go. - urged Maddalena - No time.

They left the tent, but immediately they were surrounded by Monteleone's men, who upon hearing the scandal had come armed to the teeth. They both may would have died in that moment, riddled with bullets, if Maddalena had not covered them with her body and extended arms, shouting:

- Stop! Don't shoot! Lower your arms!

And they, who already had their fingers on the trigger, hesitated, because Maddalena was respected and had almost the same authority as the boss. Those moments of doubt were sufficient to Kurtis, who disappeared in the blink of an eye, taking with him his precious burden.

The Sicilian ginger dropped her arms and looked at him earnestly as he walked away, carrying Lara in his arms.

For love, she had betrayed her people. And betrayal never goes unpunished.

(…)

Selma was the first to see them coming. She stepped forward, and seeing Lara, she screamed. Next to her Zip and a lot of workers came running.

- Oh, God, oh God – the Turkish cried - Lara!

- Depart. - grunted Kurtis, who advanced to the place where he had parked his motorcycle. While holding Lara, he climbed to it and sat her best in his arms.

- I have cold. - she murmured, who was already shivering.

The Turkish girl suddenly appeared with a blanket in her hands and quickly wrapped her, no questions asked, while Zip watched at Lara, shocked.

- Selma ... - then murmured Lara - you have to run away... as soon as possible... they know about... the Scepter...

Kurtis started the vehicle.

- Where would you take her? - Zip shouted above the roar of the engine.

- To someone who can help her! - he cried, and drove off.

The motorbike lunged forward and disappeared, leaving a trail of dust.

Zip and Selma and remained an instant paralyzed. And suddenly, Selma seemed to go crazy. She turned and ran towards the tents.

- Hey, wait, princess...!

The crowd of workers and excavators were watching her in shock. Suddenly, they saw her again. She brought the Scepter in her hand, shining at the light of the afternoon sun.

In one leap, Selma boarded over wooden box. She was not a shy girl anymore. She had become an exhilarating and fearless leader.

- Hear all to me! – she shouted, brandishing the silver rod - Those who have hurt Lara wanted this! Do you want to know what I say? These butchers will not get it! Are you with me?

- Yes! - roared part of the crowd. Others watched at her, frightened.

- At this time, they're coming over here! They come to kill us! Those who don't want to die, come with me!

She said no more. She jumped down and ran towards the excavation. Instantly, the whole crowd moved behind her.

- Selma, Selma! - Zip managed to reach her – Where are you going?

- To Tenebra! - she cried - They won't follow us there!

Zip was out of himself with horror. He paused her, grabbing her arm.

- _Are you gone mad?_

- It's our only chance!

She get rid of his arm and ran. Zip looked around. People left the camp at full speed. He hesitated a moment. Then...

- Hey, princess! I'm with you!

In the distance, it began to be heard the first shots. The _Cosa Nostra_ attacked.


	19. Chapter 18: The healer

**Chapter 18: The healer **

Lara lost consciousness shortly after. She had bled too much. The bleeding was reduced, but Kurtis, who was holding her against his chest, felt his own shirt soaked with that blood he loved. The blanket was wet and his arm was also slippery because of the blood.

He didn't want to think. He didn't want to think about that. He just had to take her there. It was her only chance. The hospital was forty miles ago along a road full of dust, rocks and potholes. She won't arrive alive. He had to take her there.

The road was not long, since she didn't live so far away, but for him it was an eternity. He didn't know whether to accelerate, thereby risking that she fell from his arms, or to slow down, risking that she died there. If he had strength, he would have wept with rage. But all his forces were concentrated to arrive soon.

And for him any journey had never been longer than this.

Marie heard the engine noise from a distance. As long as she did, she went to meet his son. She was surprised to see him visiting her so soon, if only she had spent three weeks living there. But when she saw the injured woman in his arms, she understood why.

She ran towards him, who had stopped the motorbike, and pulled the blanket to look at the wound with a critical eye. She had not expected such severity.

- Quick. - she murmured – She has her time counted.

They took her inside. Marie made her lay on her bed and for a moment hesitated, because she didn't know whether to care the injured arm first, or go directly to the hole shot in the chest, which was draining off her life. Kurtis leaned over her and brushed her hair from her forehead, and then Marie recognized her. It was Lara Croft!

- This is very difficult. - she muttered – She has lost too much blood. She's likely to die.

- Save her. You saved others. You can do this.

The old woman sighed and leaned over the wounded. At that time, Lara opened her eyes and stared at her.

(…)

_But in fact, she didn't see her. She couldn't see at all. The only thing around her was a group of dancing and elongated shadows leaning over her. And everything else was dark. _

_She tried to take air, but the effort was so painful that her eyes became moist. She could hardly breathe. She noticed the silver bullet, stuck there like a sharpened bone. She felt her arm hurting from the shoulder to the fingertips, and she could not move it. It hurt her to the bone and she could not move at all. _

_There were two shadows around her. Somehow they looked familiar to her. But they couldn't be friends, because they were torturing her. One of them stretched out her skinny arms and began to twist her arm, putting her fingers into the wound, both inside and out. She wanted to scream but no voice came out from her. Her mouth was dry. She closed her eyes for not seeing them, and then she noticed a sharp burning tip across her chest, right where the bullet was tormenting her. _

_And she began to rave. Without knowing why, her dull mind transported her back to a time when she suffered so much that she thought she would die, but someone was determined to save her... _

(…)

Marie wiped the sweat from her forehead with her bloodstained hand. Her face was smeared with blood, but she did not care. She was accustomed to blood. Blood from wounds, blood from childbirth, and blood of a thousand sick and wounded who had passed through her hands.

She had worked with skill and speed. With her son's help, had Lara's arm bandaged and splinted to cut that endless track blood. Then she tried to extract the small bullet with a burning needle. But she had only managed her to scream and squirm.

The bleeding had been completely cut off, but the bullet was still inside her. And she was very tired. Through the haze that clouded her eyes, Marie saw Kurtis surrounding the wounded' shoulders to lift her slightly and bring a glass of water to her lips. He also was spotted with blood to the elbows.

- Why did you bring her to me? - she said.

- Because you could save her. You're a healer.

- You have to know the truth. She has bled too much. She needs a transfusion. Otherwise, she will probably die.

_A transfusion!,_ Kurtis thought, discouraged. If he had been asked to cut himself his hand or foot, or to open a gash in his own neck to bleed like a lamb, he would have done that without hesitating. But there they couldn't do a transfusion. Only that was possible in a hospital, where she might not come alive.

Marie looked back at Lara. She lay in her bloodstained bed. They had cut her shirt to cure her, and now a band was holding her chest, which had bled no more. She was pale and sweaty. She barely drank water that Kurtis offered to her and continued muttering strange words under her breath.

- She's raving. - Marie said. She leaned back on her and added - Who is Putai?

- Who? - Kurtis said, confused.

- She's calling for a person named Putai. You know her?

He frowned. Then he shook his head, grieved.

- Yes, she was a friend of hers. But she died.

(…)

_- Putai! Putai, my sister! _

_Why she didn't hear her? Was that she wasn't shouting loud enough, or was she deaf? She wanted to hold out her arms, but she couldn't lift them. The pain was intense. Tears come out from her eyes. _

_- Putai! Why are you doing this to me? _

_And again she noticed the smell of salt, the whisper of the sand, the warm sun of Egypt. She opened her eyes and there she was, lying in the Bedouins' shaman's tent._ _She was naked and was disgusted looking at herself, because she knew her body was broken, crushed, mangled after falling under the foundations of the Great Pyramid. She had her bones broken and even some of them stuck out of the skin, and every movement was torture. _

_Putai looked at her, smiling. She was always smiling, because that was what Lara needed. She stretched her arms and caught her leg, after which she gave a sharp tug. She screamed again. _

_- Look, look! - sang the Ethiopian - The great Lara Croft breaks like a fragile reed as we always thought she was! Where is now your value, where your pride? _

_She said nothing. She gritted her teeth. _

_- No, don't do that. - she gently chided her - Pain drives us crazy. You'll end up cutting your own tongue by pushing the jaws like this. You'll catch it with your teeth. Bite the stick. _

_- I won't bite a stick. I'm not a dog. _

_- Then stop screaming. You're bothering my whole tribe. _

_But when she returned to touch her bone, she screamed again. In fact, Putai couldn't understand how she could resist that. She had all her arms, legs and ribs virtually broken. She knew she was suffering terribly, but there was no other way to cure her. She had to assemble her bones. _

_The shaman turned to the stove which was lit at one end of the tent. She was up to it and took a cup, with whom she served in a bowl a liquid mixture baked in the fire. Then she took Lara up and told her to drink. _

_- What is it? - She mumbled. _

_- Enough opium to knock down a camel. Now, don't look at me with that face. It's a drug, which means that will help you sleep. At least, you won't be screaming and smashing my ears. _

_Putai smiled, and her eyes sparkled. _

_- I'm going to die. - Lara said then. _

_- Don't be dramatic. You just have half body crushed. I'll fix you. _

_- I'd rather die. _

_- Yes, nothing less. Now drink. _

_The drug was strong and left her completely sedated. Putai continued, tireless, repairing and assembling the bones and masterfully selling them together, using the only tools she had: wisdom, hard work and strong hands. _

_She didn't know why she was determined to save that European's life. Her father didn't approve that. Nor the rest of the tribe, either. It would have been so easy to let her die... which would have been to make her a favor, because she knew how to cause a painless death. But Putai the shaman never brought death, only life, and she was not willing to change her habits. _

_Patiently, she repaired that body so white, so badly hurt. She knew how to do that. The brave warriors of her tribe, those stallions that boasted to be men and be strong, and they sang songs in honor of Allah with their booming voice, became like kids under Putai's hands. Wounds nullified their manhood. They cried, begged, and cried again. Writhing calling their mothers. They humbled themselves before this black woman. And she knew then she was strong, she was the superior._

_When they just came back to be healthy, again swelled their chest, lifting their chins. Men! _

_- Putai ... – she heard Lara's moan, half blinded by the drug. _

_- Sleep, my sister. – the shaman whispered, stroking her wet cheek .- Sleep. _

(…)

- It's my fault. - Kurtis muttered, holding his head in his hands, his elbows resting on the kitchen's table.

Marie was sitting opposite. They both were still soaked in blood.

- It's not your fault. Why do you blame yourself?

- I saw it before it happened. I had a premonition.

- But you didn't see it clearly. The farsee is neither clear, nor accurate. Sometimes it shows things that already have happened. Other times, things that will happen. And it often shows things that will never happen! It's not your fault!

He looked up. His eyes were glazed.

- What's the point of being clairvoyant if I can't accurately interpret what I see? I could have avoided this!

- _You've avoided it!_ - jumped Marie - You warned her, you told her she had to cover her chest! You pointed the place where the bullet would enter! That's clairvoyance, Kurtis! And at the moment she saw the shot coming, I'm sure she remembered your words, and she protected herself where you had indicated. Do you understand? If she's still alive, it's because of you! If both the arm bone and the arm's flesh had not slowed the bullet's path, it would have sunk deeper into her chest. It would have pierced her heart. It would have killed her on the spot. She's still alive thanks to you. No more blaming!

Se took a glass coffee table and drained it in one gulp. Then she looked tenderly at him and said:

- You should rest. You look terrible.

- I won't rest until she's well. And even then I would have something to do. The camp's people are at the mercy of these bastards.

- You can't save the whole world. If you don't rest you won't resist.

But he got up, returned to the room where Lara lay and sat next to her. The wounded was sleeping and had stopped raving, but she was still very weak. She was dreaming.

(…)

_- I want to tell you my story. - Putai said smiling - I want to tell you my story because I see that you get bored lying there so long. But you won't get up until I say. _

_Lara smiled. She still had half of her body bandaged and splinted. Putai mocked her, saying she resembled one of those mummies who liked so much digging people like her. "Don't dig up the dead, Lara", she said to her, "You must not open the graves. Look what's happened to you for opening graves." And she laughed. _

_- I was born in Abyssinia. - began the shaman - Do you know where is it? You call it Ethiopia. It's a beautiful country. The people are black like me, black as the wood of the baobab. There are many Christians, but I was born Muslim. I had a husband and a child, there back in Ethiopia. _

_- Did you have a child? - Lara said. _

_- A toddler. They snatched him from me. - she sighed - The Bedouins make slaves of black people. They consider us inferior, even though we are all Muslims, even though in Islam there is no class or upper or lower castes. _

_"One day we were attacked. They attacked the village. They killed men, and women and children were taken as slaves. I was raped repeatedly by the Bedouins. They grabbed my son. I've never seen him again. I should have hated them because they destroyed what I love most. But I don't hate them. Hatred corrodes the heart... and what matters is to live. " _

_- I can't understand you - Lara said. - If I were in your place, as far as I could, I would have taken a gun, and the more of those bastards I kill, the better. _

_- That's because you didn't have a child. - said Putai - You wouldn't stand being raped. How many of them could you kill? Ten, twenty? And when you have submitted, they would have killed you. But I didn't do as you say. And that's why I'm alive. _

_"When I came to this tribe, I was nothing for them but a slave. But they soon discovered my ability to heal. They were marvelled. Nothing like that had been seen among their women. Over time, they came to fear me. They call me a witch. They think I have power, that I heal with magic. There is no magic, Lara, just hard work and good heart. Over time, I lost the status of slave and became the most revered women, more respected than the older mothers. The chief of the tribe, whom I call father, adopted me as a daughter. He told me, ask me whatever you want, Putai, and I will give it to you. I asked for my son, but he could not return him to me. Who knows where he was now, in which tribe he had gone. I asked him then that a man could never touch me again. And that was my reward. " _

_The black woman's green eyes flashed with vitality. Lara watched at her, silent. _

_- Do you understand this, Western woman? Hate is not the answer. You would have killed, you would have died. I chose to love and to heal those who had hurt me, and I'm alive. _

_- You and I - Lara said - do not live in the same world. _

(…)

She opened her eyes. The pain had subsided. She could breathe.

- Kurtis?

He raised his head. He had washed and shaved himself, but he still looked terrible, with marked circles around his eyes, exhausted from not sleeping, from keeping vigil next to her.

- Welcome to the world, _milady_.

Lara raised her hand and touched her chest, covered in thick bandages. Then she touched her wounded arm, rigid splint.

- How long have I've been unconscious?

- Three days.

She looked stunned. She could not believe it.

- We had you stayed asleep. You were suffering too much.

- I have dreamed of... – she whispered - I thought...

Putai. It had seemed to see her so clearly. It had seemed that she spoke, whispered to her, smiling, as she told her terrible story. But it couldn't be. Putai was dead. She had been killed, shot down in the sunshine of Egypt. The sun and the land she loved, as she loved Ethiopia before.

- You had fever. – he said - Luckily it have been short-lived.

- Where am I?

- In my house! - then a voice said - At least, it's my house now!

Lara looked away towards the door. The woman who had just entered was tall and strong and looked like she had been beautiful. She recognized her immediately. She had seen her in her visions, only the hair that she had seen black was now sooty white, her reddish and soft skin, crossed by a few wrinkles. She wore a long leather coat and jeans, and tied her hair at the nape with a feather trim. The dreamcatcher hung around her neck.

- This old lady you see here is called Marie Cornel. - she said with a smile – I'm Kurtis' mother, and also your benefactress. Although I see, you remember more from your former benefactress.

- I appreciate very much what you have done for me. - Lara said.

- In fact, without your strength you wouldn't have survived. But too soon to talk, since I haven't removed the bullet yet. I was afraid to touch it, because you've spent a few days with fever. Although I'm a good healer, I seem not to be as good, apparently, as that Putai you have been talking about. I would have liked to know her.

Then she turned towards Kurtis and rebuked:

- Are you going to sleep at last? Or will I have to knock you down?

- I'll sleep. - he said.

When he was gone, Marie sat next to Lara and whispered:

- He told me the circumstances under which you were injured. We rarely have secrets, so I know everything about the Scepter. Who betrayed you?

- It was Bathsheba. Have you ever heard of her?

Marie nodded.

- Yes... an angelic-looking woman, beautiful as a morning sun... and in less than a month, she curses the abbot of Meteora, making him to be possessed by a demon, steals the Periapt, tries to get the Shards, attacks me on my ranch and makes me flee to Turkey, and betrays you leaving you at the mafioso's wrath mercy. What a specimen!

- Wait... - muttered Lara – Did she attacked you?

- Yes, under the shape of a haze woman. An albino woman shrouded in fog.

Lara's eyes widened when she heard that. She tried to get up, but a twinge of pain stopped her.

- I was attacked by a similar creature in Surrey, in my home! Was she Bathsheba?

- She must be.

- But what...

- Listen, daughter. - Marie lowered her voice - I have been the wife of a Lux Veritatis and I have given birth to another one. At this point it's difficult to fool me... that Bathsheba is not a human being. An ordinary person does not cast curses, does not give orders to the demons so they obey her. It's a being, a supernatural creature. Probably she's no more than another demon, another fucking monster in the guise of a beautiful young lady.

Lara spent a few moments in silence. Then she said:

- Well, that demon, that monster in a princess skin, doesn't want only the Periapt and the Shards. She has demanded your son's head.

The old woman leaned back in her seat, lost in thoughts. Then she hissed:

- Who the hell is this creature? Demons have no hierarchy, they don't obey each other. Only the Nephilim could control them. Who is this Bathsheba, whom the demons obey?

(…)

- Sssht! Hush, hush!

Selma huddled in the corner. At his side, Zip was a nervous wreck.

- I'm hearing them! - gasped the boy.

They had spent three days wandering in the dark. They had descended to Tenebra. At first, they had been many people. Some had been caught by the Italians. Selma didn't want to think about what could have happened with them. When they were at the tunnels were manticores suddenly had appeared. How many they were, twenty, thirty? Selma did not know. She just knew that she had shouted:

- Run! Run and don't look in their face!

And they run. Some, full of terror, had been dropped. Others had made the mistake of looking at them... and saw their mouths reflected in their own faces. They had killed those poor wretches. But the main group, including Selma and Zip, had reached the well, down the strings. But manticores had followed them. They went down the pit walls and slowing slipping with their claws, and they had spread to putrid pit.

It could have been worse. It could have been a death trap. But the monster was satisfied... so it didn't open its jaws to devour them. They went running over its teeth and these didn't open.

Selma was wondering why.

And finally, they were there in Tenebra. There were about twenty, thirty-five apart from Selma and Zip. The fastest, the strongest ones. There was no turning back.

- Turn off that flashlight! - Selma ordered a girl who obeyed her trembling.

They were silent. From a distance, they could hear the clicks, whistles from manticore's jaws, lurking nearby. They would not kill them. They were satisfied. They were content to stalk them to make them suffer.

Selma squeezed the Scepter against her. She felt guilty. Her exultant moment of speaking had led them to that. What was worse, death by being crushed by the Italians or death in the multiple teeth of those devils? She had only wanted to save them!

After a while, returned the boy who had been sent to inspect.

- There are dead people there! – he hissed, terrified - Some people nailed to crosses!

- The Lux Veritatis. - whispered Selma.

Again there was silence.

- What should we do, princess? - then said Zip.

She thought for a moment, turning the silver Scepter in her hands. She looked around and saw exhausted and terrified faces of all young people who had come voluntarily to work in the excavation. Now she was solely responsible for their lives.

- This scepter was found in the temple. We have to find the temple and enter.

- That will save us from the manticores? - cried another girl.

- I don't know. - frowned Selma - Kurtis knows how the demons use to act. But I'm not Kurtis. I'm just an archeologist and the only thing I can think of now is to seek refuge at the statue of the goddess whom the Nephilim revered, and Nephilim were feared by manticores.

"Maybe she will give us protection. Maybe not. But we must reach Lilith ".


	20. Chapter 19: Punishment

**Chapter 19: Punishment**

Sciarra walked with his chin raised to where Monteleone was waiting, sitting in his chair. The boss was no longer so attractive, lacking the entire front row of his teeth. Of course that would be soon solved, since he would make his dentist to fix that little problem. But he was furious and if he could kill Kurtis, he would have done so without hesitating. But he had more important matters to attend to and Kurtis was not for him.

- Did you call me, _signore?_

- Bring me Maddalena.

He didn't expect otherwise. With a sly smile painted on his face, Sciarra went to the prostitutes' area, grabbed the ginger girl by her arm and led her there. Maddalena, seeing that, released herself from the bully's grip and said:

- No need to take me in tow.

A group of men and prostitutes gathered around them, interested in the scene. Monteleone said then:

- Sciarra, what would you say we should do with the youth we pick from the excavation?

- I would kill them all. - he smiled.

- No! - a voice raised from the crowd – Didn't you see those monsters who attacked us? Release them! Let's those things to eat them!

Monteleone shook his head.

- Let them go. Leave them to their fate. But now my interest is concerning you, Maddalena.

She looked at the floor. Tufts of reddish hair were partly hiding her face.

- Maddalena, you're accused of treason. - said the gangster - I took you from Syracuse's port, where you lived a dirty and unworthy life. I gave you a home and a future, I honoured you as I never honoured anyone, I made you my favourite. And I see that, in adversity, you become part of the enemy and help him to escape, he who should be given to his pursuers.

- Ah! - Sciarra said - But ask her, _signore_, why she did it. The truth is that Maddalena was interested in Kurtis Trent from the first time she saw him. He's strong and attractive, right? I heard that bitch talking to the Chinese about surrender to him without even charging a price.

Maddalena became pale. A few yards away, Bay Li was pale too.

- Is that true? - Monteleone said - Then, Bay Li, you also have mocked of me. You know that you can do what pleases you if only you perceive a price. Don't I keep you? But you, Maddalena, you should be faithful to me!

- I did nothing! - groaned Bay Li – I was just talking and laughing with her! And Maddalena has not broken her oath, I know!

Sciarra approached her, looked at her for a moment, smiling, and then slapped her.

- Hookers! – he spit - You're all cunning and deceitful. You open your legs to the first one that puts you ahead. You've neither honour nor dignity, you're unclean and filth abounds you through every pore of the skin.

Bay Li put her hand to her flushed cheek, and looked down, full of tears. All around, the other prostitutes remained silent, terrified.

_Why he allows him to slap her?_ Maddalena thought, looking furious at Monteleone, who had observed the scene quietly. _We're whores, but not animals!_

- So you betrayed me because you're infatuated with the blue-eyed man. - then the boss said, calmly - Then I'll tell you one thing, _cara mia_. That man is sentenced to death. He has powerful enemies, so it seems. The beautiful woman who visited us the other day made me a huge favour by revealing what you know. Well, now it's her matter if that man lives or dies and I'm afraid he will die. So you can forget him from now.

He got up, without losing his graceful and serene presence.

- As for me, I'm still here, _cara mia_, and I'm very offended by your attitude. I have had much patience with you. You'll receive punishment, and pray to the three Sicilian Saints so that when I finished, I'll be too exhausted to order your death.

He took off his belt with a hitch and grabbed it by the tip, so that the buckle was left hanging. Sciarra, who was jubilant, went towards Maddalena and with a flip, tore her dress. She was naked underneath.

- On your knees! - then ordered Monteleone.

She knelt down and leaned her forehead on the floor, revealing her back. Her beautiful hair was scattered on the floor. The _capo_ raised the belt to give the first blow, but then he stopped.

The white back, the tender sides of the woman were covered with scratches and bruises. He took her by the neck and made her get up, making her stay on her knees, and looked stunned the neck's bites, the scratches and cuts on the breasts and her soft belly, and also her bruised thighs.

- What is this? - sputtered Monteleone - Who has beaten you without my permission?

Sciarra was no longer so exultant. The smile faded from his face. He went two steps back.

Maddalena opened her eyes. Tufts of red hair still covered her face, but through them Monteleone saw how her golden eyes dug into Sciarra.

- It was him. - she said, pointing at him. - He raped us, both me and Bay Li.

- Bitch! - shouted Sciarra – Fucking whore! Have you seen the lies she loose from her filthy mouth?

Monteleone turned and looked at Bay Li.

- Is that true? Does she say the truth?

The Chinese hesitated, frightened. Then she said:

- Yes it's true.

- Liar! - yelled Sciarra.

- He said that if we didn't obeyed - continued Maddalena - he would tell you that I felt attracted by Kurtis Trent. He raped me and then he also raped her.

- Nonsense! - Sciarra was getting hoarse – Since when a bitch is supposed to be "raped"? Whores must accept whatever they get! Was it not my right to fuck me that Chinese, if I pleased?

- Yes - said calmly Monteleone - That's what we have our girls. For make you all happy. And for prevent anyone from putting a hand on Maddalena, who is mine alone, as everyone knows since coming to work for me.

The voice of the _capo_ had become awfully quiet.

- Let my cock dry if I touched that nasty ginger!

- Tell me then who has made her those marks.

- Who knows! - mocked the other - Perhaps after all that Kurtis Trent may put a hand on her.

Monteleone sighed.

- I know you too well, my friend. I know the tracks you leave in women. I know how you treat them. You could touch the girl you want, whoever you liked, except from her. - turning to his men, he said - Take him away.

Sciarra started screaming when they threw over him. He was grabbed by five, and although he struggled with all his strength, they tied his hands and feet and dragged him away. Their cries were away.

Maddalena was still naked on the floor, kneeling. The boss turned to her.

- Your punishment is still standing, _cara mia_. Here all must be punished, each one by his fault. Lean.

She bent down and then he stroked her. And another blow, and another. Maddalena had felt only a couple of times the bite of that belt's buckle, but she tried to resist. Unfortunately the blows fell on an already bruised flesh and soon she began to moan and then, when her skin jumped and the flesh was exposed, she screamed with each stroke.

No one moved around. All were silent, men and women. No one enjoyed the show. It was not the first time they saw a punishment like that in public, but it was the first time in seeing him to punish someone they saw as important, as supposedly beloved by the boss. That made them feel more insecure.

When at last his arm hurt by so much hitting, Monteleone had given her like a hundred of strokes. Maddalena's back was sorrowful, laced with cuts and blood spills. The boss turned to tighten his belt without even cleaning it and said:

- Looks like Agatha, Lucy and Rosalie have mercy on you. I won't strike you more. But I'm still upset with you, so I don't want to see you for a while.

Turning round, he went into his tent. Maddalena did not move. It seemed that she had fainted. Gradually, the group was dissolved. They were afraid to help her.

Only Bay Li was the one who, after scrutinizing all around, came and leaned over her friend. But Maddalena was conscious. Her eyes were open.

Gently, the Chinese incorporated her.

- I'll heal you. - she murmured - I have an ointment from my land that I will let you fine, you'll see.

She groaned and buried her face in her shoulder. She shivered with pain.

- Weep, Maddalena. - Bay Li said then – You'll feel better.

- I don't want to weep. – she whispered - I want to laugh. Laugh at that bastard of Sciarra, whom I just have sunk.

Bay Li smiled.

- We're just whores, but we have power. We have the means. We have sunk him.

They stood in silence, held, in the camp.

- Do you think the boss will kill him? - then muttered the Chinese – He's his favourite. No one shoots like him. I think he have much appreciation to him.

- If he doesn't kill him, I'll do myself. - Maddalena swore under her breath.

(…)

Marie was able to extract the bullet the next day, again using the sharp, hot needle. That made Lara bleed a little more, but it was easy to stop the bleeding.

- Congratulations. - said the old woman, smiling - You resisted, but you're not out of danger. You must stay here for a while yet.

- What will happen to my friends? - she said, and turned towards Kurtis - Selma, Zip and the others!

- And not only them. - he said - This shelter won't be safe for long.

The Navajo woman made a gesture of annoyance.

- Impossible! You already heard me. She needs to rest to recover completely. I won't run away again. At least, not while she can't get up.

- You won't have to worry about that. - Kurtis said, and grimaced bitterly. - The solution is easy. Are they looking for me, right? So I must be the one to run away.

Lara looked up and stared at him.

- What are you thinking about? To attract them? To drive them away from here?

He nodded.

- I don't like the idea! - then broke Lara.

- Me neither! - Marie broke out in turn.

- You said it yourself. - Kurtis didn't lose his coldness - This Bathsheba is looking for me. Well, she's going to find me. But when she met me it won't be here. Lara needs to recover and needs you to do so. I'm the one who put both you in danger, so it would be stupid, now that Lara is better, that I stay here a moment longer.

There was silence. Marie sighed:

- Well. I was born to suffer for my beloved ones, now I know. Do what you feel is necessary, but don't risk too much. I don't want to lose you, damn them all!

She turned and left the room abruptly. Lara continued to stare at him, and it was a glance of reproach.

- I'll search for Selma, Zip and the others. - Kurtis said - And then I'll try to find out what wants this Bathsheba. She would better being careful!

- It's dangerous.

- I know. But since when something is not dangerous in my life?

She grabbed his neck and kissed him. Then she said:

- Don't think I'll be waiting for you. As soon as I feel better, I'll go with you. And don't try to stop me because...

- I know, I know. – he kissed her again – Don't be stubborn and do what my mother tells you. Sounds like a good woman, but in fact she's like you: if you try to argue with her, she becomes unbearable.

- Thanks! - she growled.

He turned and left the room. Passing through the kitchen, Kurtis heard a soft sound coming from the kitchen.

With her head bowed, Marie was weeping.


	21. Chapter 20: The bitter price

**Chapter 20: The bitter price**

They were close. Very close. Since they could glimpse it, standing proud amid the square, shining through the enlightened water.

- There's the temple! - Zip hissed.

Selma, crouched in the darkness and clutching the Scepter in her hand, was sweating. Yes, there it was, about twenty steps away. But the place was quiet, too quiet... and she was afraid to cross the square.

- What are we waiting for? - said one of the guys ... Selma could never remember his name.

Zip made a gesture telling him to be quiet. Selma was strained to hear the slightest rustle, the lowest whistle, the lowest snap, in fact, a sound that indicated that they were close. But the silence was dense.

- Let's try. – she said then - I'll go out first. The others will go behind me, and Zip in the rear.

The hacker didn't enjoy the proposal, but he didn't protest.

- You see the doors of the temple. – the Turkish said, pointing at them with the rod- Run towards them and you mustn't look back. Who comes first, should push with all his strength to open them... and who gets the last, must close them.

- And if they don't open? - whispered a girl named Karen.

- If they don't open... may Allah have mercy on us.

Zip looked at her. She was dirty and her clothes were torn. Hours earlier she had fallen rolling down a cliff and a huge cut went across her cheek, dyeing her with blood, but for him she looked more beautiful than ever. However, the twenty people were equally dirty and bruised.

- Well, here we go. – she whispered - One ... two ... Three!

They started to move as if they were ejected. They ran with all their forces to the alabastrine wide doors. But they still had not even reached half of the square, when the monsters showed up.

There were five manticores. They went out from the corners, through the windows, and rushed upon them. One cut off Selma's way. The other knocked down another boy, who began to scream in terror.

Zip was the one who, despite being the last, reached first the doors. He threw wildly against the doors and began kicking and punching them.

- Open, goddamned fucking door!

Karen joined the other boy's screams. They were around them. Selma saw, scared, how the manticore who had grabbed one of them nailed the jaws in his throat and began to shake him like a wimp, so that drops of blood were flying through the air.

- Open at once, fuck! – was still howling Zip, who had nearly flayed both hands banging on the door.

The Turkish leaped forward and swung the Scepter in an arc, screaming with all her forces. Karen and the other guy were placed behind her, while the rest were piled next to Zip, some covering his back, others trembling with terror.

But manticores were no hurry. In the distance, the cries of the captived had gone out. He was already dead. Throwing him aside, the manticore, with its bloodstained jaws, joined the others in its slow progress towards its preys, who were retreating towards the door.

- Go back! - Selma sobbed, scared to death, wielding the Scepter - Back!

At that time, the doors opened at last, and Zip fell face down on the marble floor of the temple.

- I got it! – he gasped.

All young people, panic, turned and ran into the temple, leaping over the poor Zip. Selma stood alone against the five manticores.

- Selma! - shouted Zip - Come on!

But she was afraid to remove the eye from them. She saw them moving forward with that smiling face, swinging their lethal sting on both sides, while their features reproduced in the dark the girl's face, so to scare her more.

Zip was at her side.

- Selma, come on, let's go inside!

- Enter. - she moaned - I ...

Suddenly, a manticore fell upon them. Letting out a shriek, Selma raised the Scepter and hit its head. And then something amazing happened.

The beast landed on all fours, and began to squirm, letting shrieks of pain. It rolled on the floor, rubbed its head, and finally turned around and sped away.

The other four manticores had been paralyzed, staring at the Scepter, Selma held it with trembling hands. At that time, Zip had an occurrence. He took the silvery rod and with a cry, sprang forward.

The manticores gave a shriek and fled.

- Look that! - cried the boy - This thing scares them!

And without thinking, he rushed after them, wielding the scepter, screaming with all his might.

Selma ran to the lying boy on the floor. He was the one whose name she can never remember. But he was dead. He had his throat tore apart.

(…)

- Ahaha! Run, run, fetid flea bags! Move your legs!

Zip was exultant as he chased the manticores, making a fuss with the Scepter as if holding a torch. But the demons were faster than him and soon disappeared from his sight. But no matter. He had driven away them! He had saved Selma! And also the others, of course, but Selma too!

Jumping, he climbed on an angel's statue's top that was there, and raising the Scepter, yelled:

- I'm a Lux Veritatis!

- Are you _what?_ - said a mocking voice at his side.

He almost fell out, frightened. He looked down and saw Kurtis at the statue's foot, arms crossed and looking at him with a grin on his face.

- Damn, Kurt, you scared me! – he jumped to the ground.

- Could I know what _the hell_ were you doing? - he said. - And my name's_ Kurtis!_

The boy's chest swelled with pride.

- I scared them! Me on my own! I bet you would never...

- Of course _not_. I would _never_ go running and screaming like an asshole in an ancient city that may be full of enemies, and fiddling with an old object like a spoon. Bring that here!

And he grabbed the Scepter of his hand.

- Say what you want, man. - insisted Zip - But these things have run away with whistling teeth once they have seen the... well, not exactly "seen"... when Selma hit one of them, it seemed to hurt and others so...

- They have been scared and fled. So was her who has scared them. And you've put on a little show that could cost the neck at us all. Move on!

Grunting, Zip obeyed. On reaching the temple they saw the others sitting at Lilith statue's foot. Karen held the corpse of the dead boy as Selma bandaged his neck to keep it together with his body.

Seeing Kurtis, the Turkish rose, ran towards him and embraced him:

- Thanks God you are here! - sobbed her.

- Why you went here? - he said, dismayed - This place is dangerous!

- We didn't know what to do! - she told - The mafia was upon us and the only way out was down here. But I regret it. Many have died ... and that things almost got killed. It occurred to me to come to the temple, but we almost didn't manage...

- What have you done with this? - Kurtis said, showing her the Scepter.

Selma shrugged.

- I was scared to death and I happened to hit a manticore. But I've hardly touched its head since it was hard as stone!

- And that harmed it?

- It screamed as if burned with something hot. Then the others fled when Zip threatened them with the Scepter.

The man had fallen silent, staring at the silver rod. Then he said:

- Close the doors. We'll overnight here and try to go tomorrow. The Italians have let the other people who have picked up and they've gone.

- Are they gone?

- That can be good or bad sign. They still want the Scepter, so we have to continue to count on that they can cause problems.

They lay at the statue's foot. The excavators and Zip soon fell asleep, but Selma and Kurtis stayed awake a long time. The Turkish wanted to know what had happened and how was Lara. When any question was answered, she murmured:

- What should we do? Should we return the Scepter to its place?

Kurtis looked up. Lilith seemed, of course, about to take flight, and also seemed to notice that her rod lacked.

- We won't. - he finally decided .- The Scepter is no longer safe anywhere, because so many people are looking for it. I don't know for sure what to do, but I know it has hurt beasts which are hard to hurt... you can only kill them at once to get rid of them. And if such strong demons are harmed by this, that's because it's more than a silver rod.

He remained silent for a moment. Selma murmured:

- Monteleone wanted the Scepter. Bathsheba is searching for you. She also has the Periapt and wants the Shards, so it's not unlikely that she also wanted the Scepter.

- The Periapt and its Shards. The Scepter. - Kurtis wiped the sweat from his brow – They're trying to gather powerful weapons.

- And to capture a very powerful man. - Selma whispered, staring at him.

He didn't answer. His eyes were lost.

- They are preparing something big. - continued Selma - You have no idea of who can be, and what they want?

- Of whom they are, yes. - said Kurtis – I didn't want to say, but I suspected that from the start. Monteleone is just a greedy who collects rare objects. Even he's unable to believe those nonsense about the Scepter. But that Bathsheba and her men know what they're doing... I'll put my hand on fire they're the Cabal.

Selma's eyes misted and she shuddered from head to toe.

- The Cabal! – she gasped - But ... but ... we stopped them! The police... put them all behind bars! Is not it?

- The weed never dies. - snorted Kurtis – And we didn't stop them all... some of them escaped... as Giselle Boaz.

The girl looked up to overlook the beautiful statue. She shuddered again.

- Holy God... What a mess we've gotten?

Kurtis ran his hand over the Scepter, stroking its decorated arabesques.

- If this thing has always been here, why the hell they haven't come for it so far? What makes them so interested in it?

- Apart from scaring demons?

He looked up again, looking at Lilith. The beautiful goddess' face threw a serene glance to the sky, her lips slightly parted.

- Lilith - then he said - was highly revered by the Nephilim. She was called by many names: The First Born, The One Who Makes Herself, The Mother Of All. She was a symbol for them. I don't know if there was a woman, goddess or demon, named Lilith, who gave birth to that abject race... but it's clear that they revered her. And the demons feared only the Nephilim, so that if they identified the goddess with the Nephilim...

- ...it's likely that they were afraid of her! - Selma's eyes were shining - So it occurred to me to come here to protect us!

Kurtis nodded, still staring at the statue.

- It's likely but not certain. And the Scepter carried by Lilith has hurt a demon with a simple touch. – he sighed - I have no idea what it all means. Only one thing is clear: we have to carry with this thing... at least for now.

(…)

Marie spent the whole night awake.

She wandered from the kitchen to the courtyard, to the kitchen again, and walked up and down the hallway like a lost soul. After two hours, when it was past midnight, she sat by Lara's bedside. She was awake, clear of being still and smiled at the Navajo woman, pointing towards the amulet around her neck:

- That dreamcatcher is already famous.

- It belonged to my family for generations. - Marie smiled - My great grandmother wove it with her own hands and has always been with us. My people believed that this filtered evil spirits, pushing the misfortunes away from our children. But it was hung over my crib while I was a girl and then I hung it myself on my son's crib, and never has spared us any evil or misfortune. We have suffered all kind of misfortunes. Still, I love having it.

She took a comb from her pocket and began to brush her hair.

- I would like to ask...

- Ask me. An old woman like me gets bored if not asked.

- ... how did you met Konstantin? You are Navajo and he, as far as I know, was Greek.

Marie's eyes welled up when she heard that. Lara feared to have delved into a deep wound, but then she began:

- Yes, he was the son of a Greek mother and German father. His father was named Gerhardt... and was a Lux Veritatis. But when I met him it had been long ago he had been killed... and Konstantin just went with the obsession to avenge his father and survive himself.

"I met him in 1966. He was 33 years and I saved his life. I was in Europe with my father, who was an officer and worked with Navajo code, the language of our tribe, which had proved to be so useful to the Americans in II World War. I saw him crawling on the floor, bleeding. I did not know what happened, but I heard shots from a distance and without thinking, I took his arm, picked him up and hid in an alley. Then I saw him... Pieter Van Eckhardt. He spent close to us but he didn't see us. He walked and went away with all his followers. We were safe.

"I took him home and between my father and I will heal him. We wanted to know who was chasing him and why, but he never responded. I fell in love, but he was too cold and expressionless to say anything. Furthermore, it was worthless... My father and I would soon return to the U.S.A and I'll lose his trail... I'll always remember what I said to me:

- Thank you, Marie Cornel. But you might not have done me a favor by saving me.

"I would take long time to understand his words. He disappeared from my life and I returned to my homeland... But at 69, just four years later, I saw him in Colorado. He came to me. He had been searching me for all that time."

She sighed and paused, staring into her lap.

- He told me who he was and who his enemies were, and why they wanted him. He taught me what he could... the power which had been granted to him... and asked me if I was able to live with him, knowing that tomorrow was not safe and he could die at any moment; so he would marry me, because he could not stand being alone and was in love with me. I said yes without hesitation... and we married.

She smiled then.

- The rest I think you can imagine. I learned to fight with him and lose the fear of his enemies. We suffered a lot, but we all endured because we were together. But Kurtis was born at 72 ... so I had to give up being with him. Eckhardt immediately knew we had a child. The old monster was quite clever. Not content to harass my husband, he put a price on the head of my son, who was just a baby. Konstantin was still his goal, but he became obsessed in killing Kurtis. And we didn't know if he would have the Don... I prayed every night of my pregnancy to the spirits of my people, praying that he never manifest the Don... but they did not listen to me. Within ten years, Kurtis did something incredible, and I had to give up my hope.

She shook her head again.

- Sorry, honey. I'm boring you.

- Certainly not, - said Lara. - Kurtis never speaks about himself, so I'm dying of suspense.

Marie smiled again, and her dark eyes sparkled.

- Do you know what he did? There was no nonsense. He was ten years ... he was only a child. But what he did was not a joke.

- What did he do? - Lara said.

The Navajo's eyes darkened.

(…)

_- Marie! Marie Cornel!_

_The woman immediately stepped onto the porch. Four men came running to the house... pursuing another, who was wounded. She recognized him._

_- Stevens! - she cried._

_- Marie, help me!_

_No more needed. She turned, ran to the bunker where they stored arms and frantically tried to find the rifle. But it was not here. It was not here!_

_There were a few shots, and then a thud to the ground. She turned and saw the poor Stevens, whom she had hidden for months, lifeless on the floor, his head stitched with shots. Three of the four mercenaries entered then._

_- Well, well! - sang one of them - But what are my eyes seeing? If it's Konstantin's wife!_

_- Get out of my house! - she cried._

_- Where's your hubby? Should not be protecting you?_

_The third pounced on her, but Marie kneed him in the stomach, making him bend double. She sprang to the room's door and closed the coup, while stuck one after other latches with trembling hands. Then she ran between rooms._

_- Kurtis! Kurtis! - cried in an anguished voice - Where are you?_

_- He's here. - said another voice._

_Marie stopped short and uttered a cry of horror. The fourth man, whom she had not seen entering the front door, was there, holding her ten year old son, and putting the barrel of the gun to his head._

_- Please, let him go. - begged Marie – He's only a child ..._

_- The Alchemist has sentenced him to die. Not for me to challenge him._

_The back door collapsed and the other three came in and grabbed Marie, who suddenly seemed to have lost all her strength._

_- Well, what are you waiting for? - shouted one - You have the kid! Kill him at once!_

_- Yeah, so what will you do while with the woman? Getting her, right?_

_- What do you care!_

_- What do I care? So far, asshole! That sucker of Konstantin chose a pretty good one, don't you think? What if we entertain ourselves with her?_

_- Okay, but first kill the brat!_

_Marie began to mourn while the other three dragged her to the next room. And then, Kurtis, who had been pale and frightened, murmured:_

_- Leave my mother alone._

_The tone in which he said that made everyone stop._

_- What did he say?_

_- To leave her mother._

_- What the fuck! Sneezy devil, kill him...!_

_- Leave my mother alone._

_It was the second time he repeated that, and he said with a terrible earnestness to his young age. Then the man who was holding him slapped him._

_- You know what? Let us not go to another room! We will have fun with her mother here to make him see it all!_

_- Bastards! - cried Marie - It's a kid!_

_- A puppy that can become a lion. - whispered the other - Come on, end this at once. The Alchemist can come at any time._

_They threw the woman against the wall and rushed her to tear off her clothes. Then everything happened so fast._

_The four windows in the room exploded into pieces, one after another. They screamed and dropped Marie._

_- What was that! - screamed one - Is there a Lux Veritatis here?_

_- Moron! - said the other – Don't you see? It was the kid!_

_Kurtis was still standing in the middle of the room, his face flushed and breathing hard._

_- Lets finish this! - said one, and pointing at him with the gun, he fired._

_Marie gave a shout that could have been heard within the confines of Earth. But that day Kurtis didn't die. The bullet that was aimed at his head suspended in the air a few feet from his face. He looked straight at the projectile... and it suddenly fell down._

_The others had no time to react, so much astonished. Suddenly, the broken crystals were raised from the ground and, as arrows shot with accuracy, dug into their bodies, crossing them from side to side. They screamed, dropped their weapons, and tried to flee. But before reaching the door, they were already dead. Stabbed to death._

_Marie closed her eyes and trembled in her corner. She heard a crack and saw close his son, who advanced on the glass, stepping over the bodies. Arriving at her, he smiled, held out his hand and said:_

_- Let's go, Mom._

(…)

- I don't know why I'm telling you this. - Mary said with a shudder. - You might think he's a monster.

- Well - Lara said, laughing - if I had known he was able to do such things with only ten years old, I would have been less mean with him.

Marie laughed softly and hid her face in her hands.

- My son is not a monster. A ten years old boy should not be subjected to the pressure at which he was submitted. The Don was there, lurking within him, waiting for the right time. And it jumped when both my life and his was in danger. We never were so in danger as we were in that day... the day he lost his childhood. Konstantin was proud to know that, but I always had a horror of that day, and him so. He can't bear to be reminded of that day. He can't bear with what he's able to do. But he's not a monster. He just wanted to protect his mother. He's not an assassin.

- No need to justify, Marie. - Lara said, resting on the pillow. - I also killed those trying to harm me, and I also don't consider myself a monster.

The Navajo looked up. She had a pained expression on her face, as if she were burning inside.

- What a life we lived! – she sighed - What would have done to be a happy mother... what would have done to have a normal child!

- For that, you should have said no to Konstantin.

- Never would have said that. I loved him. I may have regretted my life, but I have never regretted accept him. But I regret that Kurtis inherited such power from his father. Konstantin was happy being what he was. He fought for a cause he felt it was worth. But not Kurtis. Kurtis has been very miserable.

She twisted the dreamcatcher, turning it over her chest.

- Marie - Lara said then - if you don't want to keep talking about this, you can leave it.

- No! - she said - No! I've never spoken about this to anyone. I'm tired of carrying the suffering inside. If you want to hear me, let me free. Let me find, at last, some relief.

Lara had never felt so intrigued. That old woman had with her the yoke of a lifetime of suffering, and also was the only one who would talk to her about the man she loved, since he himself (and she already know why) could not bear to talk about his own life.

- I saw Konstantin when Kurtis was seventeen. He had all that time without seeing him. He was so changed... he had endured so much. He almost ignored me. His attention was focused on the boy, on his precious child who was expressing the powers that, according to the Grand Master, were superior to those of his father, who at that time was the most respected and feared Lux Veritatis. – she smiled bitterly - Poor Konstantin. How great was his disappointment to learn that his son didn't want to belong to the Order, nor was interested in the War of Shadows, nor in his powers, which he considered as a disease, a disease difficult to bear.

"For three years, he allowed to be trained. But at nineteen he had had enough. The symbol had tattooed on his shoulder and he had been presented to the Order. But he did not want to know about that. He fled. And he fled to the only place where his skill as a fighter would be useful and nobody would ask about his past... also where we could never find him: the Foreign Legion. He was very clever. He changed his surname (Trent is a false surname) and obtained French citizenship. What happened in those years only is known by him. He had to leave because they had been there for him ..."

- Who? - Lara interrupted.

- The devils. The Don attracts them like a magnet. I suppose that, in order to defend himself, Kurtis was forced to do things that terrified his superiors. He got kicked out of the Legion. He never told me about it, that's all I know.

"Then he had the idea of joining the squad of Marten Gunderson's."

- Ah. - Lara said, twisting her mouth – Our old _friend _Gunderson.

- They had been friends in the Legion, where he became their leader. I have never approved him to kill for money at that time... I can say that he became an assassin, but only then. But all ended very abruptly as Gunderson agreed to work for the Cabal. As soon as Kurtis saw Eckhardt, he disappeared. Imagine what must have felt the Alchemist when he learned his cherished goal had been so close to him... in his own troops ... and he had lost him! Old useless man!

She laughed, but her laughter was short-lived. She became silent after a moment.

- Then, Konstantin died, right? - Lara ventured.

Marie nodded weakly.

- It was retaliation. When Eckhardt knew Kurtis had eluded him, he resumed the hunt for my husband with a violence never before seen. He... found him in the end. He killed him and he also killed all the Lux Veritatis that were left, except from my son. I was told that he was crucified at the gates of Tenebra... tell me... have you seen him?

Lara was silent for a moment. Then she said softly:

- What do you want to hear, Marie?

She hid her face in her hands.

- I would like to hear it's not true... that you haven't seen him... that there are no crosses… that my husband didn't die there, in such horrible way...

Lara was silent. Marie sobbed quietly, and then looked again at her. Her face was wet with tears.

- You know, Lara? There are people you live with very little time... and they fill up your life. Others however, you would not want to see them, and are always with you. I saw Konstantin four times... four times in thirty long years. But I loved him until the end, and even at night, my hands still seek him in the dark. Konstantin was like a brief spring, like a dream which come in and out of my life in a flash. He spent with me a short time, but he left me the most valuable thing he could give me: Kurtis.

She stood up, wiping away her ears as he said:

- I don't know if you understand what I mean. I know my son loves you. He did not say. He never says anything about what it's inside him. But I have noticed so in his eyes. I don't want him to suffer even one more day. I don't want him crucified as his father. Nor do I want you to suffer as I suffered, even it's true that you're stronger than me. I'm so tired...

She walked to the window while trying to stifle tears. Lara did not know what to say.

- Listen to me, Lara. This must end. We can't be like this. You have to help him to get rid of this. I'm old and tired, tired of fighting. The Cabal grabbed me everything I loved. They still want more. They still want Kurtis so they won't rest until they see him hanging from a cross. You're the Amazonian. You killed Eckhardt and found the key to kill Karel. You can get rid of this curse and free us.

Lara looked at her, dumbfounded. She tried to say something, but was interrupted by Marie:

- I've heard a lot about you. Some will consider you the smartest woman in the world... also the strongest. I don't believe in rumors. I believe in what I see... and in what my son told me about you. Kurtis survived to Eckhardt. He also survived to Karel. But he would not survive to Bathsheba... remember the day when I tell you.

She leaned over her and grabbed her hurt arm. Lara jumped.

- Swear to me that you'll help him to get rid of this! He should never have been what he is! Swear that you will help him!

- I don't believe in oaths.

- But I do.

- Ok. I swear.

The Navajo's face relaxed. She released Lara, who gasped in pain, and slowly departed.

- Excuse me. I should not talk you like that. I'm just a crazy old woman. This is the bitter price I... we've all paid.

She turned and left the room.


	22. Chapter 21: The Great Goddess' power

**Chapter 21: The Great Goddess' power**

Just a few hours later, Kurtis decided they had rested enough.

- What should we do with the corpse? - Karen said, ruefully.

- Leave it here. We can't do more for him.

They went across the city in silence. Kurtis had ordered them to be quiet as graves.

Luckily, they hadn't to go back through the putrid pit. In fact, Kurtis didn't care about having to deal again with that awful thing. What he didn't want to do was to pass again between the Lux Veritatis' crosses. He wouldn't want to admit it, but every time he saw them, so high and grotesque, blood was boiling in his veins. He couldn't stand it.

He elected then an alternate route, the one both Lara and him had used to return with the Scepter. The tunnel was rising from the right side of the city to join, a couple of miles later, to another tunnel leading to the same well width and leading to the cemetery.

There were several hours away in front. A road done in the most deadly silence. Selma walked with Kurtis, who hold the Scepter in his hand. Although he didn't quite trust it, the truth was that no monster attacked them.

They walked for hours to reach the circular walls of the large pit. Fortunately, there were ropes hanging, which had previously used both by _mafiosi_ and operators to ascend and descend.

- Could we rest? - Zip complained.

- Take a rope and climb. - Kurtis ordered, ignoring the boy.

Selma frowned, looking at the strings.

- And you?

- I'll go up the last. - Kurtis said - Come on!

They obeyed and started to climb. The man reached down and put down the light that had served him to guide them in the dark: a plastic bottle filled with murky water. It had been an excellent resource when the batteries of the flashlights were exhausted.

He watched in silence while they were climbing. Soon they disappeared from his sight, but he continued to hear Zip's moans and the others' snorts. They were going one by one, all twenty, until he lost of view the last one. Then he went over and picked up a rope.

Suddenly he heard a click behind him. He turned abruptly and a second later he had extended the Churigai in his hand. No more was needed to recognize what was attacking him.

The manticore moved quietly towards him, grinding its three rows of teeth. Then Kurtis thought, _why not?_, and raising his hand, let the Scepter back and showed it to the creature.

The effect was immediate. The beast's eyes widened and it stopped. Then it began to emit a small noise like a groan, and its front legs bowed. Another one, which had appeared after the first, also stopped short.

- What the hell you see in this thing? - Kurtis murmured in surprise.

- They see the Great Goddess' power. - answered a sweet, musical voice from the deep darkness that lay behind the manticores.

Kurtis eyes narrowed.

- Who are you? Show yourself!

He heard a series of soft steps on the tunnel's sand, and then, stained by the bottle's blue light, a woman appeared before him.

She wore a long white robe tied at the waist with a narrow strip of silk skirt, which covered her until the feet. She also wore a dark cloak over it, with the hood thrown back, and her hair fell across the body like a black veil. She smiled sweetly.

She stretched one arm towards the manticores:

- Come here, my little ones. He'll harm you if you approach more.

And those terrible beasts suddenly become tame puppies and approached her. One laid at her feet and another rubbed affectionately against her leg, while she stroked its head with his white hand. She was, so beautiful, like a pagan divinity, like a Triformis Hecate.

- Manticores only fear two things. - then she said - Nephilim's anger... and the Scepter you're wielding. But it's been so long since they recognized this again. It sufficed one chance for them to again felt its bite, to remember it. Oh, how stupid were my ancestors, who forgot that such powerful weapon was laying here below. But at last I recovered it.

- We'll see. - snapped Kurtis - Are you Bathsheba?

She smiled again.

- Yes, and you're Kurtis Trent. I've searched you for so long... too much for me, for I see beyond minds and hearts. You're clever and elusive and you've managed to retain my vision... until now.

- Why did you steal the Periapt and cursed a helpless monk? Why did you attack two women that had made nothing to you?

- Because they were the guardians of what I wanted. Your _helpless monk_ tried to rape me, but that does not matter anymore. The Periapt is mine and now so both you and the Scepter.

- Really? - Kurtis grimaced - What will you do to me? Tie my hands and gag me? Or maybe you'll knock me down with one punch?

She smiled even more.

- You say that to provoke me. You say that because you're a strong man and I'm a frail and delicate maiden. But you're smarter than that, you know I sent a demon to enter into a monk's body and you see how the manticores lick my hands and kiss my feet. Don't provoke me, for I can crush you with a single gesture. You'll come with me.

- Come then! - said Kurtis - Come to get me!

And dropping the Scepter, he raised the Churigai, showing its sharp blades. She stared at the multiple edges of that weapon, without saying a word. The manticore which was at her foot lifted and ruffling his hair, it began to growl.

- So this is the Churigai. – she said at last - I've heard of this weapon almost as much as I've heard of you. It's a legendary piece... it's said that no wound caused by this will never be healed. Did you know? I think not, because you just don't hurt with it. What you do with it is destroy. Well, are you going to cut me in pieces with it?

- Come here - Kurtis murmured - and you'll find out.

Suddenly, a manticore jumped on him. He had not expected and, however, he reacted immediately. The creature's head rolled on the floor and Kurtis pulled off its corpse with a kick. The other manticore let out a squeal, but Bathsheba stopped her by taking her by the throat.

- Quiet, little girl. - she said.

In launching the Churigai, it had hung on the wall, and still vibrated while manticore's blood was still sliding along the edge. The woman watched that with interest but without fear.

- You must come with me - she repeated – whether if you like it or not. You can come willingly or I can force you to do so. I know where you hide your mother and the wounded explorer... wouldn't you want anything bad happen to them, right?

- Don't even dare to threaten me. – he reached out and the Churigai returned to his hand.

- So, enough chattering. - she said, and extended her arms forward.

Kurtis jumped back, preventing a possible attack, but she remained in that position, with clenched fists, while the manticores retreated slowly. Then she opened her hands and dropped a few rose petals, while uttering four strange words.

Before he could even prevent it, a wave of darkness hit Kurtis and threw him back. He hit his head against the wall and everything went dark.

(…)

Sciarra remained tied to a lamppost one day and one night. Meanwhile, he cursed, and cursed, insulted and also shit on the mother who had given birth to all the hookers from all over the planet Earth since the dawn of humanity.

At noon, Monteleone deigned to visit him.

- Dear friend - he said in his cold courtesy – you're my favorite and I've always held you in high esteem. But your attitude doesn't help your situation. You know what I do with those who behave like you?

And he already could see himself castrated and hanging from a light post, or rolling down a rocky cliff in that desert or shot to death.

- Yes, you do. But you've been very, very lucky. - then whispered the _capo._

He saw someone approaching behind him. Sciarra observed a tall, white man with a square jaw and a short mustache.

- This is Adolf Schäffer. - said the _mafioso_- He's the head of a squad of mercenaries working for Bathsheba.

- For the _Lady_, if you please. - Schäffer replied sourly.

Monteleone shrugged.

- I leave you with him. You're in luck, friend. _Ciao_.

The Italian turned and walked away. Schäffer stayed a while watching him, and had the typical expression of hardness that could be seen in some German officers in times of Nazism.

- What's your name? - said then.

- Giacomo Sciarra. What the hell you want from me?

- If I were you I would be more polite. I've been the one who saved your ass. I'm very interested in getting you as a part of my mercenaries. You possess information about Monteleone's files that interests me. And incidentally, I'll say that I paid a huge amount of money to make your boss forget about you.

- What if I don't want?

- Your boss will give me back the money and in return, he will be happy to hang you himself. You choose.

Sciarra remained silent, while studying this subject with suspicion.

- I was afraid of that. Farewell. - he said, turning around.

- Uh, no, no, wait! I-I-a-accept the deal! I say that I agree, dammit!

Schäffer turned, displaying a cruel smile.

- Will you kill anyone without asking me who or why?

- Yes!

- Will you have any qualms about revealing things that only your former boss knows?

- No, no! I'll say whatever you want!

- Perfect.

He pulled a knife, opened it and cut his ties. Then he turned and walked away. Sciarra went behind him. They crossed the camp, but nobody looked at them. Except for one person.

On the corner of his eye, he saw a red glow. He turned his head and saw Maddalena standing there, watching him in silence.

Sciarra smiled and made at her a gesture of cutting the neck.

_I'll find you again, slut._

She turned around and returned to the tent.

(…)

- Kurtis! Kurtis!

Leaning over the pit, Selma never got tired of shouting. Zip, terrified, looked around, expecting to see an Italian appear. But there was no one there. The others had gone. Selma had authorized them to leave, discouraged.

- Princess, you can't remain here all your life!

- Then I'll go down to seek him!

- What? No, no, no!

The Turkish girl had already taken back the rope, but Zip snatched it from her hands.

- Er... I'll go down.

And he began to descend. Selma waited, trembling on the edge of the pit. After a while, she heard a scream in the background. Something that sounded like this:

- Hoooooooly shit!

- Zip? Zip!

The rope began to shake severely, and soon the boy appeared as if the devil was chasing him up... which was not entirely false, because after him, Selma could see a manticore pursuing him by climbing up the wall.

- Hold on! - Selma cried, holding out her hand.

She helped him to come up and then he pushed her down the hall.

- Come on, run!

They ran through the tunnel as they heard the manticore going after them. When they went outside after four days, the daylight hurt them in the eyes, but they didn't stop.

- God, what should do we do?

- To the jeep, princess!

Sure! The damn jeep. They practically threw themselves on the vehicle, jumping over the gates, and Zip nervously grabbed the steering wheel.

- Do you know how to drive? - said Selma.

- That's if I find the keys to this thing!

- Damn!

- What?

- They're in the tent, with the maps!

- WHAT?

There was a _bum!_ that made them rotated. In the rear a manticore were slowly climbing the trunk, smiling cruelly.

Selma jumped off the jeep and ran towards the tents. The demon didn't hesitate and jumped after her, momentarily forgetting Zip.

- Heeeeey! - cried the boy to Selma .- If you have time, pick up my laptop!

The girl went running to the tent at the time the manticore reached her. Luckily, the monster hit the canvas and hooked its claws, so it took a moment to smash the tent. Selma, with a heavy heart, frantically rummaged maps, looking for the car keys. At last she found them... fixed in the corner of Zip's laptop' screen. She jerked them, but they were not released. She took another pull, and neither. Hysterical, she closed the laptop shut and put it under her arm at the time the manticore finally destroyed the fabric, entering the tent. It threw itself on Selma and its claws reached to scratch her shoulder, but she ran away back to the jeep.

- Wow! - Zip cried seeing the laptop - Thanks!

- Start at once! - she cried, falling sitting on the passenger seat. - How the hell did you fix these keys?

- With gum. - Zip said while in a split second extracted a key, put it in the lock and started the engine. - Here we go!

The manticore had been bundled in the shattered tent part, but hearing the engine roar, it rushed back into the vehicle.

- Hold on tight, princess! - Zip screamed and hit the gas... towards the manticore.

Selma screamed and covered her face to see the monster coming to them... but then it suddenly disappeared and she felt a brutal beating in the jeep.

She took a moment to realize what was happening. She turned and saw the monster flat on the ground.

- You've run over it...!

- That's enough for that thing to piss me off. - Zip growled, giving a blow to the wheel.


	23. Chapter 22: Unequal confrontation

**Chapter 22: Unequal confrontation**

It was night in England. Winston, after reviewing each and every one of the Manor's gates, closed the door and quietly went upstairs.

- Miss Deli? – he called softly.

Radha appeared on the railing. She had grown up a good stretch since she was in Surrey. Winston was convinced it was due to good food and the friendlier climate than in India. It took more than a month, but she was higher and with more rounded forms, and little was left of that faded skinny girl who had come across the tropics. She was about fifteen years old (although obviously she didn't know for sure) and it seemed that she would become a beautiful teenager.

Since Lara's departure, Winston had looked after her with total dedication, as when he had been responsible for Lara. He had taught her music and literature, besides English, in which the girl had made remarkable progress (and what remedy, if there no one understood her native language) but she still had a strong Indian accent.

- Miss Deli - repeated the butler - it's about bedtime.

Radha nodded and stepped into the room instantly. Winston was surprised for her so great docility and obedience, after how much it had cost him to control the rebel Lara. But that was another of the lessons learned in India... to death.

She undid her braid (hairstyle adopted by her in finding it more comfortable) and began to brush her black hair while looking out the window. Sometimes, that sky, so dark at night and usually overcast day, frightened her. She was in a strange country and among strangers. She missed Lara but she also realized that she too was a stranger, and that kind old man, who was her tutor and teacher at the same time, so it was. But there was no turning back. There was no longer a place for her in India. She would have to find a place in England.

She turned off the light and lay in bed. She stood for a while staring at the ceiling. She must have spent half an hour when she heard a sound downstairs.

_It must be Winston_, she thought.

Soon, she heard a burst of breaking glass. She jumped. Despite his advanced age, Winston was not shabby at all and though he made tremble cups and trays in his hands, they had never fallen. (The old man used to proudly tell the girl the story of how, two years before, he had left a burly mercenary knock down with a single candelabrum's blow on the head, although Radha couldn't believe such thing).

The girl went towards the door and opened it. Below, everything was dark. So clearly she saw a shadow moving upstairs... sound of footsteps... and it was not Winston, judging by his size and agility.

She didn't scream. She closed the door and ran across the room onto the balcony. As a child she had played climbing the walls and trees on her village and had come to jump from roof to roof, so it was not difficult for her to get into the courtyard by holding down the drainpipe.

At the bottom, she heard very clearly what was coming down the door of her room. Someone turned on the light and then...

- Where the hell she is? – she heard a voice growling ... a man's voice.

- On the balcony! - another voice hissed.

Radha contained a scream and began to slip against the wall, towards the kitchen door, which was by the American track in which Lara used to train. She slipped through it at the time that one of the two thugs, with a grunt, dropped into the yard by jumping from the balcony.

Who were these men? What did they want?

The girl went running into the kitchen, went through it like a shot, and suddenly screamed in pain and staggered. She had just stepped on a broken glass, which probably had produced the sound that had alerted her.

She limped to the corner of the hall and, biting her lower lip, she touched her injured foot and pulled the nailed glass. The kitchen's light went on then, and Radha realized in horror that her pursuers had only to follow the blood trail to find her.

She came upstairs again in panic, although her foot was profusely bleeding. She reached the Winston's bedroom's door and opened it.

- Winston! – she anguished cry - There are some men...!

She received no reply. She switched on the light, and let out a cry of horror. The old man lay face down on the ground, completely motionless, beside the bed, still dressed in his butler's uniform.

Had they been able to kill him?

- I got you, little slut! - hissed a voice from behind, and suddenly Radha felt herself lifted into the air and held between two huge arms.

She started screaming and kicking, but a large hand covered her mouth.

- Quick - hissed the other - let's get out of here.

The "other" was a harmless-looking man who gave orders to the other, a pretty chunky.

The hand covering his mouth was replaced with a handkerchief soaked in a liquid that smelled horribly wrong... Radha felt the world spinning around... and vanished.

(…)

- Roger. - Schäffer said to the walkie-talkie - Excellent work, Hugh! I'll tell immediately to the _Lady_. Short and change.

He hung up and headed for the van that was parked next to the rocks. Sitting on one of them was Bathsheba, her face covered by a white veil, as if she were a Muslim virgin. Around the area were deployed Schäffer's men, with their respective vehicles, as she didn't liked to be looked with excess. She just showed her face to whom she believed worthy of that, when she wanted to.

- My Lady - Schäffer bent his torso - I just received Hugh's news. Everything went off without a hitch. They already have the Indian girl in possession.

- Perfect. - she said calmly.

- Now I want to ... introduce the man whom you demanded.

- Bring him to me.

Schäffer turned to the soldier's group and made a sign to Sciarra, who came slowly. Bathsheba looked at him through the veil. Decidedly, he was a sly, nasty and heartless villain. But what mattered was that he had worked for Monteleone. He would be more than useful.

The Italian stopped a few steps and looked intrigued at the veiled lady. He had not seen her the day she visited Monteleone.

- This is Lady Bathsheba. - said Schäffer - We serve and obey both her and Dr. Boaz. If you're still alive, it's because of her, since she demanded your release.

Sciarra noted with suspicion the veiled face, and said:

- I'd rather see the face of my new boss, if you please.

- Insolent! The Lady only shows her face to whom she chooses...

But Schäffer had not finished saying this when, with an elegant gesture, Bathsheba lifted the veil and showed her smiling face to Sciarra, who let out a gasp of astonishment and went two steps back, eyes wide.

- Would you devote to me your life and your will, Giacomo Sciarra? - she whispered.

He swallowed hard before answering.

- Yes, L-Lady.

She dropped the veil again. The interview was over. Schäffer grabbed numb Sciarra's arm and took him to the mercenaries' group, who were busy cleaning and assembling their weapons, although all had taken up their glance as she had lifted her veil.

- I know what you're thinking. – the German smiled, looking at Sciarra with sarcasm – You think you've never seen so beautiful, so divine face. Well, listen carefully: you'll never see another like her in this world... or the next. She owns our lives from the moment we start to serve her. But don't dare to commit the sin of thinking of her as a woman... for she's not. The loveliest woman in the Earth is dust at her side. Nor should you ever think of her as a woman whom you could possess. For I know from your former boss you're pretty tough. Here your whims won't be satisfied... here we only need your services. Now you're in the Cabal, and if you dare to disappoint the Lady, or myself, you'll receive appropriate punishment.

The Italian nodded, too stunned to respond.

(…)

Father Dunstan rang again and again the bell outside the gate, but found no answer.

- This Winston is becoming increasingly deaf. – he snorted impatiently.

He went every day to give Christian lessons to the little Indian girl. He was convinced that her pagan soul had to found her way to Christ's light... It was unthinkable that a child who was supposed to be raised in England continue burning incense before the statue of a goddess with an excess of arms!

But it couldn't be said that he had been very successful... since when he spoke about the Gospel, she was staring at him in amazement, and before the mention of Mary's conception through the Holy Spirit, she had laughed. That had required the intervention of Winston, who had said very politely to him:

- Abraham, you should wait a little... the girl has her own religion... perhaps this is not the best way to...

But the priest was stubborn, he had insisted back each day, and even he had the impression that Radha struggled for not to burst out laughing every time he talked about the Mother of God's virginity.

- Sweet Jesus! – he sighed - Why nobody opens? Is that child also deaf?

He rounded the house and got into the crypt. Whishing anyone to pass nearby, he put the Bible under his arm, adjusted his hat, rolled up his robe and began to climb the ivy. Halfway down, he lost his footing and had to rely on Von Croy's tombstone, who rested there.

- Excuse me, Professor. - whispered the priest to the buried archaeologist.

He pushed, threw one leg over the wall and landed on the other side. Panting from the effort (he was no longer a young man) he went into the Manor.

The door was open.

He paused, suspicious, and then he saw the trail of blood coming out and crossing the yard. Crossing himself, he quickly ran into the house.

- Winston! Ra-rra! – he never say properly the girl's name - Are you okay?

The only answer was silence. Distraught, he ran upstairs. At that time, he heard a weak, small voice.

- Abraham?

He turned. Winston was there, sitting on the floor, her hair dishevelled and his uniform unkempt.

- Blessed be the Lord, Jeeves! What happened to you?

He bent down and helped the old man to get up, accompanied him to a chair and gave him a glass of water.

Winston drank the water and, after releasing a sigh, he began to sob:

- The girl ... alas, the girl... the little one...

- What, what? Where is she?

- They've taken her... oh... What would my Lara say? Oh ... what would she say about this!

He said no more. He buried his face in his wrinkled hands and cried, heartbroken.

(…)

Bathsheba parsimoniously arose and approached the van. Watching her move, Schäffer went immediately next to her:

- My Lady... you shouldn't do that... he could get violent...

She smiled:

- I remember you it was me the one who captured him.

He nodded, but went ahead and opened the back door. With one hand, he helped her to come up and then he went after her, closing the door. Then he placed himself between her and the prisoner. Although everyone knew that she was perfectly capable of self-protection, Schäffer was determined to give her all that was needed.

In the back of the van Kurtis was sitting. He had awakened. The tremendous blow on his head had left him a crust of blood on the face and neck. He was hoped to be more than stunned, but Schäffer, not conspicuous for his tenderness, had ordered his arms to be tied... with wire strand. To his surprise, his arm's skin was covered in pools of blood, which meant he had tried to escape, although the spikes may nail and tear the flesh, something that actually happened.

_One of two_, Schäffer thought, _or this guy is an idiot, or he's really tough_.

Bathsheba sat down and lifted her veil. Kurtis looked at her without uttering a word. He seemed strangely calm and his face was completely expressionless.

- I hope this helped you think. - then she whispered - If you keep on fighting you'll only make out to be more wounded.

Kurtis didn't respond. It was impossible to decipher what was going through his mind. And his mind was off limits even to the very Bathsheba, which fascinated and irritated her at a time.

She quietly observed her prisoner. She didn't know why he was so quiet. He should be full of panic ... or maybe he had not yet realized what was expected to him.

- Do you know why we're looking for you? - she continued.

Kurtis shrugged.

- Tell me and spare me some saliva.

At that time, Schäffer stepped forward and gave him a tremendous punch. Kurtis bent, letting out a gasp, but returned to straighten inmediately.

- The next time you talk to her in that tone, I'll break your legs. - said the bully.

Kurtis set a defiant glance to the rough German, and with a gesture of contempt, spat to one side. His lower lip had split with the coup and began to bleed profusely.

Bathsheba looked at the mercenaries' leader and said:

- Leave us alone, Schäffer. Then I'll call you.

- But Lady. ..

- Do it.

He bowed respectfully and left, closing the door of the van.

Kurtis had leaned against the wall. A trickle of blood ran down from this lip, chin and throat, to soak his shirt. Along with the gap in the head and his torn arms, he offered a sad look, but he still remained serene as a calm sea.

Bathsheba stared at the running blood. She got up, walked up to him and had him bent up to her eyes' level. He held her gaze.

The beautiful hesitated. Then he stretched her hand and brushed his lips with her fingertips. She turned away and sat back; watching fascinated the blood that pervaded her fingers. Suddenly she looked up, smiled... and out her bloody fingers to her mouth, slowly licking the red liquid with a sharp tip of her tongue.

Kurtis didn't move. Nothing was said. But he kept holding her gaze. He was quite daring. Few men could endure looking at her for so long. And certainly none had the privilege of seeing her that way.

- Red blood. - she whispered – Salty blood. It's strange. Your blood shouldn't be like that. You're not like any other mortal.

- What kind of creature are you? - he said then.

She smiled, revealing her white teeth.

- Does it really matter? I just want you to know why you're here. Two years ago you killed a divine being... and now you've reached the day of vengeance.

Suddenly someone knocked at the door. Bathsheba was quick to drop the veil over her face. But it was Schäffer.

- Lady... Dr. Boaz wants to talk you... on the phone...

Of course, that was well understood by Kurtis. So Dr. Boaz... when she retired to take the call, Schäffer stood looking at him for a moment. The truth was that he felt a bit sorry for him. It was pretty awful what was coming to that unfortunate, but there was no doubt he deserved it.

- Ah, sorry for that punch - Schäffer scoffed, turning away.

- If I were you, I would worry about the wire strand. - Kurtis replied calmly.

- Why? - laughed the other - Because does it hurt a lot?

- No. Because I've released myself.

Schäffer turned stunned... to see how Kurtis jumped from his seat and hit him on the temple with an elbow. He fell against the van's door, which burst open, and the bully fell to the ground.

Kurtis wasted no time. He jumped down and ran towards the rocks.

Behind him, he heard Bathsheba shouting:

- Stop him!

There was a commotion at the base. Suddenly, everyone began to quickly load their weapons. Schäffer rose from the ground, still stunned by the blow, to meet Bathsheba's indignant face.

- Lady, I'm sorry, I didn't expected he would be able to...

- Bring him back. - she said, quietly - This is a desert. He can't get very far. _And I want him alive_.

Kurtis had disappeared among the rocks, but after there were still only dust and stones. It was true. He had nowhere to go in that great vastness.

- Come on! - shouted Schäffer – Let's go for him!

The men gathered around him, others brought their vehicles.

- My pleasure! - hissed Sciarra, loading his gun.

(…)

Kurtis felt a tremendous pain that ran from shoulder to hand. A pain to the surface, mixed with a hot and sticky sensation of blood sliding down his arms and dripping from his fingertips. There were areas where his flesh had torn to the bone. And in the left arm, a strip of skin was literally hanging like raw meat.

Was it worth that supreme effort to break free?

Crouched behind a rock, he waited patiently, feeling his heart beating in his chest like a drum. He heard the screams and the manoeuvres of his pursuers. He heard the engines of their vehicles. He had to move, only to divert his mind from that unbearable pain that almost made him scream.

He got up and ran. There was no point staying here. They would arrive soon. Nor he wanted to hide. The blood trail would betray him.

He heard shouts behind him, and suddenly, shots rained around him. But what had to teach him those lads? He already knew how worked the mercenary agency founded by his former friend Gunderson. They were very able to scare someone into believing that he would be shot, when in fact he wanted him alive. But he already knew that trick.

Sciarra, unfortunately, did not know. Excited about the idea of hunting down a fugitive, he decided to shoot to kill. And it was a very good shooter indeed.

At the time Kurtis stopped next to a mound for breath, the Italian, flexing the leg, aimed and fired. The bullet plunged deeply into Kurtis' knee.

- _Touché!_ - Sciarra said triumphantly when he saw him stumble and fall. When he went to reload the weapon, a colleague stopped him:

- Are you crazy? We must not kill him!

Kurtis grabbed his knee, panting, and after examining the wound, muttered softly:

- It's over. Enough.

They approached. They could see him in the distance, like a tiny figure crouched beside the mound.

- Come on - Schäffer urged by the walkie-talkie, jumping from the truck - and be careful. He can be dangerous.

He wasn't wrong. Suddenly and without explanation, there were shouts and immediately, he witnessed a scene that would be around his memory for long.

One by one, his men were being disarmed. The pistols, machine guns, were torn from their hands as if a strong arm throw them away and went flying out to land on the floor, far away. The mercenaries, most of them young, retreated in panic.

- Damn it! - Schäffer yelled, running towards them – Don't be afraid of his tricks! Take him...!

He didn't finish the sentence. Above his head flew a mercenary, who was screaming terrified, waving arms and legs. He landed on the windscreen of the van, which was shattered. Then he saw another and another flying by the air.

How the hell he could do that? He was still there, hidden behind the rock!

- Hey, boss! - shouted Sciarra - I believe we should kill him!

Schäffer snorted and took two steps. Suddenly, he felt a cool breeze at his back... and turned, terrified. The van was lifted in the air, and after two bell laps, it landed a few feet below, crushing a group of soldiers.

The rest did not think twice. They turned and ran away.

Schäffer cursed those cowards. But then, what was complaining about? That bastard was wiping his boys!

- Sciarra! – he shouted, picking up a shotgun - Come with me!

The Italian complied, although he kept looking in horror as the truck was now on fire, consuming the remains that had been crushed underneath.

They came to the rock...

- That's enough, Kurtis Trent! - then the German shouted – You won't scare me with your magic tricks! I know them all! Maybe you don't remember me. I was an apprentice when the boss Gunderson left his skin in chasing both you and that whore of Lara Croft in Romania, Egypt and Germany, until she killed him in Greece. But I well remember all that! Now I'm the boss and you don't scare me!

- Lara Croft is _not_ a whore. - Kurtis voice answered, calmly, as he rose and appeared before them – And you're not a boss.

Sciarra watched in disbelief the carnage that this mad had made to his arms in order to escape, and then noticed he was limping because of his shot in the knee as well.

- You have done wrong in your attempt to escape. – the chief said then - and now it's useless to be there. You must accept that once you've been defeated again, and face the consequences like a man should do.

- I've been defeated many times. - Kurtis said - And I'll will be many more. You and yours, however, will be defeated once... at your death.

- Let's finish! - Sciarra snorted in exasperation – So many talks made me feel sick!

He went towards Kurtis and with rude gesture, grabbed his arm and pulled, forcing him to walk and stabbing him viciously with all fingers, knowing that it would really hurt him. However, as soon as he just touched him, he suddenly felt like an invisible slap going across his face and he found himself being pushed back. He bumped with Schäffer and both ended up on the floor.

Kurtis started running again, but he had no more strength. He had lost enough blood through his leg and the use of his mental capacity had left him exhausted. At that time, he heard an engine roar, and to his astonishment, appeared Selma's jeep, which was being driven by Zip.

- Kurtis! – the Turkish girl cried, holding out her hand – Let's go!

With an impulse, she took him to the jeep at the time the shrapnel slammed the car's doors.

- Fuck! - Zip cried, covering his head with his hands.

- Start! - ordered Selma.

The boy stepped on the accelerator and raised a cloud of dust that cut off the persecution. The jeep was gone in seconds.

- Well - coughed Sciarra – I think that nice lady will get furious with us.

(…)

- Oh my God, Kurtis! - moaned Selma - Your arms!

The man dropped into the back of the jeep and let out a sigh of exhaustion.

- How did you find me?

- Just by chance. - Zip answered nervously, staring at the road - We were nearby and then we saw a van and lots of guys flying on the air. I figured it would be up to you... Holy shit, man! If I could do that!

She was frantically searching in hand luggage.

- Is not there a first aid kit or something like that? He's bleeding is a horrible way!

- The luggage is up to you, princess. I just had my laptop.

Kurtis leaned against the trunk's wall and closed his eyes. He hardly noticed that Selma was having his arms bandaged with dedication and then she made a tourniquet to the leg. When finished, the girl was dirty with blood and twice hysterical before starting.

- I hope this would help... I'm so sorry! What savages!

- Zip. – then he murmured, opening his eyes – I'll guide you to a site. But whenever you get, you have to go away immediately and leave me there.

- Where? - asked the boy.

- The place where both Lara and my mother are. They'll escape with you.

Selma and Zip looked to each other, concerned, but neither dared to reply.


	24. Chapter 23: The master stroke

**Chapter 23: The master stroke**

Radha huddled in a corner. She was trembling. Still, she struggled to stay calm and avoid giving cues to her captors that she was terrified. Suddenly, it came to her mind the terrible images of the Legion attacking Kusuma Bharadji. But this time was different. She was alone.

She was in a white, bright room, with a bed on one corner and a table with a chair on the other. That was all. The door was made of metal and was well bolted. Her kidnappers had left her there after having traveled miles completely chloroformed.

She didn't hear the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. All sound was insulated by the door. When she saw the vast bulk metal opening, Radha gasped and feared the worst.

But only a woman entered. She came with the man who had kidnapped her. He exchanged a few words with the woman in a rough language which she didn't understand, and then he withdrew, closing the door. She sat quietly in her chair and watched at her.

Radha peered the woman from her corner. She was young, no doubt about it. She was dressed in a white coat over a sweater and a skirt, stockings and heels. She was quite attractive and it could even be said she had a kind face. Her eyes were blue and her blond hair was clear as she had never seen before. It was very short, like a man's.

- Do you speak English, girl? - she said.

She said nothing.

- I'll speak to you in English because I don't know your mother language. My name is Giselle and I'm the chief of these facilities where you've have been conducted. Maybe you feel that your abduction has been cruel and unfair, but you'll be finding some answers as the days go by. Or maybe you won't find them. It all depends on your behavior.

The girl didn't understand quite well what she was saying, but at least she managed to capture the main idea. Comprehensive, Giselle explained it in a clear and basic English, and spoke to her slowly and with proper rhythm to be understood.

- What have you done to my butler? - suddenly the girl asked, weakly.

- We haven't hurt him. He just fell asleep the same way you've been sedated to get here. Now he must be well. We don't seek unnecessary victims. Every life we take, we take it in a justified way.

Of course, she omitted to say that if Winston was still alive was because that interested on her plans. The old man would be responsible to warn Lara that the girl had disappeared. And that was just what she was looking for.

- I want to go. - Radha said firmly and simply.

- That depends on how willing would be your friends to collaborate with us. From now on, the decision is in their hands.

- Lara will come looking for me!

- If she does, she will have problems. I'm the owner of this place. No one leaves and no one enters without my permission. And of course she doesn't have permission to enter, or if she does, she won't have permission to... leave.

The way she said it made Radha shudder. She narrowed her eyes and murmured:

- You're an evil woman.

Giselle smiled, and in doing so her face became dramatically embellished.

- I'm neither good nor evil, child. I do what I had to do. I can't afford to be good or bad. I have more important issues to worry about.

She rose from her chair and made a sweeping gesture with her arm.

- This will be your room. You won't leave it while you're here, but if you open the window, you'll have a beautiful ocean view.

- Where are we?

The woman smiled again.

- Come on, little one, if you even wouldn't know how to recognize India's shape on a map... How can I tell you where are you?

- You can tell me anyway.

Giselle slowly shook her head, then she turned to leave the room.

- Oh, by the way - she said before leaving – we don't want to hurt you. But if your friends refuse to cooperate with us, we'll have no choice but to assert a compelling reason to force them to do so. For the damage you'll receive, you'll also know how much they care about you.

The door closed with a metallic crash, and all was silent.

Radha went to the window and pulled back the curtain. Through the bars, she saw the rocks of the cliff, down below the waves crashing against them, and the vast blue sea. A beautiful sun was shining and she could hear the song of the gulls.

That and the sound of the sea would be the only sounds to accompany Radha from that time.

(…)

- How do you usually say, mortals? _"If you want something well done, do it yourself."_ I must say that's the only smart thing I've ever heard from you.

Schäffer, embarrassed, did not dare to look up. His Lady had spoken calmly and hadn't got angry at any time, as predicted by Sciarra.

Sitting in the back of the van, she spun in her hand the roll of twisted wire that had tied Kurtis. Her fingers went through the spikes without getting pricked, and the truth is that the German could not understand how the beautiful could play with such thing without feeling disgust, since it was smeared with that man's blood, and had even bits of his skin attached.

- We will reach him. - he said hastily – He must have now lost so much blood and will be weakened. And those who are with him are only two kids. There is a long way to Izmit, so...

- What's the balance? - then asked Bathsheba, looking at Sciarra.

- A destroyed truck and twenty men killed. – the Italian laconically replied, looking fascinated that face hidden behind the veil.

She nodded slowly.

- We won't try to catch him again. That's what he wants. To run away and keep running until killing, one by one, everyone of you. – she pulled the wire to one side – We'll strike him where it really hurts him. We'll go to where both his mother and the explorer are.

Schäffer nodded. That strategy was flawed.

- Forward. - ordered her – Move on. You must get there before him.

(…)

Marie was sweeping the porch when she saw a figure far away. Her surprise was to see a black boy wearing a cap and carrying a water bottle.

- Stop! – she shouted, raising her hand to her belt, where she had a gun holstered - Who are you?

- Are you Mrs. Marie Cornel? - stammered the boy.

- What do you want from Marie Cornel?

- Thank you, God! - cried the boy looking up to heaven, and came determined towards her.

Marie took the gun.

- If you dare to take a step further...!

- Wow, wow, wow! - he cried, raising his hands - I came sent by your son! By the one called Kurt…is!

- I haven't another son. - grumbled the old lady, keeping the gun – Could you have started out by there! Who the hell are you?

The door was then opened and appeared Lara, who had her arm bandaged, and rested on the doorframe.

- Zip! – she exclaimed.

- Hey, baby! - ignoring Marie, Zip went towards her and patted her healthy arm enthusiastically - I'm glad to see you're so well!

- You can trust him. – then Lara said to Marie – He's our computer technician.

Marie came in and served water, as Zip hastily expressed:

- I've been walking for an hour! The jeep in which Selma, Kurt and I were has run out of petrol. We're without a drop of gasoline. I've offered myself to come here because Kurt is not very well and Selma wanted to stay with him...

- What happens to him? - Marie jumped, startled.

- He had been shot in the leg. But he's a tough guy, certainly it won't be serious.

- Where are they now?

- Well, as I said, an hour from here, going south.

Marie nodded.

- I have a truck in the backyard. I'll prepare it.

She left the kitchen. Lara waited until she close the door and then turned to Zip.

- To me you can talk openly. What happened?

- The whole thing is very ugly, girl. - Zip sighed.

And he told her what had happened in Tenebra, how Kurtis had found them, how he had disappeared and how he was finally rescued by them from the Cabal's hands.

- Well, well - Lara murmured - if you seem to be a hero after all.

- In fact - Zip blushed - wasn't up to me alone, you know? Selma also...

Suddenly, a scream rent the air. Lara jumped from her chair and walked to the window. What she saw froze her.

Outside, everything was full of armed men. The vehicles were parked pretty far, so she had not heard them. The one who appeared to be the leader brutally held Marie by her arms while dragging her away from her truck, and beside him Lara recognized Sciarra.

- Shit! - Zip gasped.

Lara was thinking at full speed.

- Zip – she ordered - In the back room, beyond this hall, you'll see a room. That's where I sleep. Under the bed is a trap door hidden by a carpet. Open it and hide yourself in it.

- What do you mean? - the guy was shocked - I can't hide like a coward...!

The explorer turned abruptly and shook him by the shoulder with her healthy arm.

- Listen, damn it! _Kurtis is going to need you to know what happened here_. Do you understand? Now hide and not go out, hear what you hear!

Someone started banging on the door. Zip nodded, pale and sweaty, and went lost in the hallway.

The door came down. After it appeared Sciarra, who seeing Lara, approached her and tried to catch her. She pulled away.

- Don't _even_ touch me, pig. - she hissed.

And passing in front of him, went calmly to the outside, looking down on that armed regiment.

Schäffer let Marie go, who came towards Lara, and then he said:

- Well, well. I see you're both in good health, though yours, Miss Croft, could be better, right?

- What do you want? - Lara said quietly.

- Well... to make a reckoning with Kurtis Trent. We already had him when he committed the nerve to challenge us. We're not patient people who stand everything, so we'll hit him back twice as strong as he has hit us. And you, ladies, you'll help us to that.

He snapped his fingers and they were pushed into a van, where they were forced to climb and being watched. Lara, still recovering from her wound, could not think of refuse. Meanwhile Marie had fallen into a painful silence.

Within minutes, the soldiers ransacked the whole house. Lara prayed for they couldn't find Zip. They did not. After a while, they went out carrying out the objects they had found useful.

- Do you find it? - then said Schaffer.

- No, boss. - replied one of the soldiers. - There was absolutely nothing, and you've already registered the woman.

The German turned, his face full of anger, and shouted:

- Bring her here!

They grabbed Marie and made her fall from the truck. In a last moment, the old woman, desperate, held out a hand to Lara, but she could only touch her fingers before she was pushed forward. The explorer was left in the truck, held by Sciarra, who enjoyed stabbing his fingers on her bandaged arm.

Marie was placed against Schäffer, who asked:

- Where's it? Where's the Periapt Shard you custody?

She remained silent.

- Lady Bathsheba claims that Shard! Where did you hide it, you old witch?

Silence.

The German turned and shouted:

- Bring the gun you've taken away from her!

He was obeyed instantly. The leader confirmed that the gun was loaded and then, without further ado, put the barrel into Marie's forehead.

Lara screamed in rage. She tried to move, but Sciarra grabbed her tightly.

- I'll repeat it. – the German spat again – If you shut up again like the bitch you are, I'll blow your head. Where is the Shard?

- Where's it, where's it! - Marie then broke, furious – Where's the Shard! Where's Konstantin! Where's Kurtis! Where's this, that, the other thing! You've spent your whole life wondering the same thing, and you've not advanced at all! Killer snakes! You've no law or country! You serve the devils just because you get paid! Scum! Want to know where's what you seek? I'll tell you: in a place you won't find! Because you're so blind that although it was in front of your nose you wouldn't see it. Now shoot me if you want. I don't care. I'm old and tired. You've ruined my whole life, but you won't ruin a day longer.

Marie's speech was followed by a heavy silence. For a moment, the German's finger vibrated on the gun's trigger. Then he smiled, and slowly lowered the gun.

- Upload her to the truck. - he ordered, and turned around. - We go to the coast!

Marie was reinstalled next to Lara, still strongly held by Sciarra, not yet by her bandaged arm, but by the other. He liked to touch her. His fingers were groping her soft skin.

But Lara wouldn't hear the Italian's crude scores. She exchanged glances with Marie, who could not seem to believe being still alive. The old woman gave her a smile of triumph.

They ripped out and left behind a desolate house. After a while, Lara felt a warm and sticky humidity in the chest.

The gunshot wound was open and bleed again.

(…)

- Look, Kurtis! There comes a van!

He looked up and saw, in fact, a trail on the horizon. But soon he knew it was not his mother's van. Neither the mercenaries' one.

The vehicle stopped in front of them. To his astonishment, the novice Pancratios was driving, accompanied by a few armed monks.

- Thanks to the Blessed we have found you! – he shouted – Since many days ago this has been a living hell!

- What happened?

The novice cast his eyes on the now useless jeep and fixed again his eyes on Selma.

- Is that a Muslim? – he asked.

- She's a Turkish woman, and you may better call her by her name - Kurtis said, irritated - I have no desire now to deal with your intransigence. Why have you come?

Pancratios clenched his jaw.

- Then you still don't know... we're bearers of bad news. But I see you're hurt.

He turned off the engine and made some signs to the other monks, who came down and started loading on the van all that was in the jeep. Selma helped Kurtis to stand on his feet, not daring to look up.

As a cultured and educated woman, she was aware of the problem posed by her presence. The Greek people had suffered greatly under the Turkish yoke, and the deep wounds of the Greek War of Independence remained unhealed. The horrible massacres and violations committed by the Turks continued to weigh on the minds of many Greeks, and in that place at that very moment, Selma was not only a Turkish among Greeks, but also a woman between monks and a Muslim among Christians. So she kept her eyes lowered.

- We came because since several days ago, our abbot is dying from horrible attacks. - said Pancratios - The demon that dwells on him at the end is killing him. We know you couldn't do anything, so we had thought to talk to the witch who bewitched him, to make her lift the curse on him.

- What makes you think she will be so accommodating? - Kurtis said with a grimace.

- Well... everything is possible with faith. But certainly now that's the least of our problems. We come to where your mother lived so far... I fear that a disaster has occurred.

Selma, who still held Kurtis, noticed how he suddenly stiffened. She forgot her silence and said:

- God! What happened?

Pancratios glared at her, as he had not expected that woman could speak Greek, but added:

- The house has been looted and vandalized. We found in the attic, hidden, a boy of African features...

- It's Zip!

- The boy is fine. He comes in a second vehicle which is about to come. But he told us that your mother and Miss Croft had disappeared. They have been led by the Cabal's men.

Kurtis released abruptly from Selma. He closed his eyes tightly, and after putting his hand to the forehead, turned and walked four steps to nowhere in particular. But at the fifth step his injured leg gave out and he collapsed on his knees in the dust. Even his head was reeling from the brutal coup against the rock, and the wound was pounding him like a drum. He doubled over.

At his side was kneeling Selma.

- Kurtis – he heard her say, but her voice sounded very far away - Kurtis. Calm down. They have led them, but they're still alive. They haven't done any harm to them.

_How could you be so stupid?_, it seemed that said to him another voice, which sounded louder in his ears than the Turkish' sweet voice, _you wanted to get them away from danger and you've served them on a platter to the enemy! The only valuable you have in this world are these two, and you've thrown them to the wolves! Bravo, Kurtis Trent! Every day you will surpass yourself more and more!_

- Kurtis, do you hear me? - Selma became increasingly worried.

- I'm fine. - he gasped, looking up.

- No, you're not at all. - turning to the monks, she said - Is there a doctor among you?

_What will you do now, huh? How would you recover them? How would you give them freedom? Ah, you know very well. Give them what they want: yourself. Pay that price, and perhaps you may save them. Or maybe not._

- Brother Domenikos is a nurse. - said Pancratios. – He'll assist you. But we have to leave.

Then the second truck arrived. Through the haze that clouded his eyes, Kurtis saw Zip jumping from the truck, who warmly embraced Selma and then began to speak hurriedly, gesticulating towards the monks, from whose speech Kurtis captured only:

- ... have said they're taking them to the coast! Maybe if we follow them...!

- Absolutely not! - Pancratios said, speaking in English to be understood - We just have very few weapons! We can't face such...!

He stopped to see Kurtis rising, more determined, limping to the truck and opening the driver's door firmly.

- Kurtis! - exclaimed Selma, alarmed – What are you doing!

- I'm going to the coast, of course. - he said .- Don't try to follow me.

And without giving time for more, he hit the accelerator and disappeared in a cloud of dust. In the group of people who were standing near the second truck, Selma was shocked and Zip scratched his head, stunned, while the monks looked at each other in disbelief.

- For Saint Barbara's hair! - cursed Pancratios - That man is crazy!


	25. Chapter 24: The exchange

**Chapter 24: The exchange**

Giselle dropped on the chair beside the bed. She reached out and stroked the dead girl's hair. She did that for hours. After a while, she was interrupted by the guard's arrival.

- Doctor ... – he murmured politely - We should move this body to the morgue...

She looked at him. Her green eyes were glazed.

- Tell me, Ralph, why this child is dead?

The guard smiled, understanding. Of course she knew, she had been present at the time of her death, but he had to say because she had requested.

- A brain stroke, Doctor. Fulminating. You couldn't do anything.

Giselle nodded quietly.

- A stroke caused by an excess of serum. I shouldn't have given her so much serum. But her heart was failing and serum could have helped her.

She bowed her head and grabbed her hands in a tormented gesture. Seeing her, Ralph thought, she seemed an ordinary physician suffering for not being able to save the life of so young and so beautiful patient. The reality, however, was very different.

- Why my patients die? Why, why? – she lamented aloud - Each one is valuable! They cost so much to me to achieve, by trying to maintain! Why they die, if I ever perfected the art more and more, if every time the serum, the treatment, the experiments are better and safer?

Ralph spread a blanket over the girl's tiny body, a fair-skinned blonde creature that looked like a doll.

- If you allow me the insolence, doctor, I fear that the system still has flaws.

Giselle sighed in dismay.

_If only my stubborn daughter was here and not stumbling in Turkey! I don't improve anything, damn it!_

- Excuse me, Doctor. - Ralph said gently - I get the girl.

And pushing the stretcher, he went out. Giselle remained seated for a moment, motionless, and then she got up and left the room.

She passed through the halls like a lost soul. Through the blast doors, were heard the cries and groans of the prisoners. She knew their suffering. But she also suffered!

- I'll go out for a while, Karl. – she said to main entrance's guard.

He was quick to press the release button and the big doors were opened, leaving Giselle go outside.

From the moment in which Karel had died, the surviving members of the Cabal had decided to seek a new basis for their research. Moscow was only an interim stage. No other European capital was already secure. The police would always be aware of. No, they had to find a safer place.

And they had found a place in that island, that lonely rocky outcrop off the coast of Syria, near Cyprus in the Mediterranean Sea. All authorities believed it was uninhabited and so should remain. In record time, workers had built a fortress that was both laboratory and imprisonment. All around, there was nothing but rocky coast and sea. Patients arrived, kidnapped by private vessels.

Giselle could be satisfied. No one will disturb them there, and she could go on quietly with her ambitious personal project.

What were exactly Giselle's experiments? Nobody knew for sure. It was rumored that she was endeavoring to create new specimens of the Nephilim race, but so far the results had not been better than the horrible Proto of her late sister Kristina, therefore, horrified, she had hastened to destroy them before instilling life. Others, however, said she was developing another embryo with which to fertilize herself.

But no one theory or another fit with those treatments and experiments endured by the hostages. She just ordered it and she was obeyed. That was all.

She walked to the beach and dropped there. She removed her shoes and socks and let the foam of the sea to kiss her white feet. She closed her eyes and lay on the sand, abandoning herself to the fullest.

_Joachim, Joachim, why did we fail? We had the world at our disposal. If you'd accepted me as a wife, a mother of your descendants, you'll now contemplate the beauty of your daughter and convince yourself that I alone, among all your servants, really understood your message. How I desire to get you back, you who were immortal, you who had lived since the dawn of humanity, you who were going to live forever._

She opened her eyes, and to her surprise and embarrassment, she found them full of tears. She sat up to wipe. She felt so alone! So misunderstood!

From the corner of her eye she saw the cliff that rose at her left side and, pierced in the rock, the prisons. At the top of the rock, she distinguished Ralph and another guard, who were dedicated to the noble task of getting rid of the deceased's bodies. They piled them on the edge of the cliff, wrapped in white sheets, and they gradually made them fell one after another into the sea, pushed by the guards. _Plof. Plof. Plof_. One after another, sinking in eddies formed under the cliff, inhabited by sharks, which within minutes would reduce those spoils to nothing.

She rose at last, feeling somewhat relieved. But when turning, she saw something on top of the fort that made her stop. A dark face peered through the bars.

Radha Deli, imprisoned in that room, was scrutinizing her jailers from above. Giselle looked back at her intently, but the Indian girl was gone, running back the curtain.

Had she seen her mourning?

(…)

For miles and miles, Marie grabbed Lara's hand.

They were going towards the coast, but they would not leave the desert. It would be too risky to enter inhabited areas, the authorities could notice. And with it the two women' hopes go up in smoke.

After what seemed an eternity, the vehicles stopped and both were forced to descend among insults and shoves. Sciarra dragged Lara away by the arm and Marie saw her no more. She was taken to a van where was waiting a figure dressed in white, covered with a black cloak, whose face was also covered with a veil. Marie did not need more to know that this must surely be the famous Bathsheba.

- Leave us alone. - a melodious voice said to the mercenary who had accompanied her.

The old woman stood a moment peering into the thick veil, but couldn't see her interlocutor's face. After a few moments, irritated, she had the audacity to say:

- Well? Is this veil a game to make you more interesting?

She could have sworn she was smiling under the fabric. Then she replied:

- We are women, Marie Cornel. I think you'll understand me when I say I hate the way in which men look at us, like cattle... like a wild horse looks at a young mare. Chance gave me a peculiar face which makes me feel stripped while observed wherever I go... so this veil helps me get by. Although I must admit that I still attract some attention. Have I satisfied your question?

Then she lifted the veil for a moment and said:

- Do you think my fears are justified?

Marie watched her, stunned, and said:

- Indeed, you're very beautiful. Too bad so idyllic face hides such perversity.

Bathsheba seemed confused for a moment, then she laughed, and her laughter was like a singing crystal fountain.

- Do you really think I'm evil? – she dropped the veil - I don't want to hurt you. Neither you, nor the explorer, and I didn't even want to hurt your son. It won't be me who will give him the fate that he deserves. I'm just the messenger... the dealer. Not the executioner.

- What kind of creature are you?

- You asked the same thing he asked me! But I can answer to you. You have no powers to threaten me. I'm the Ineffable, who came when all you believed you would never see again one of my kind. I'm your ancient enemy, and your son has been so blind to not recognize me.

Marie was speechless with amazement, and then she tracked down in her mind the factions had glimpsed beneath the veil just before.

- It's impossible.

- It's true, Marie.

- You attacked me in my ranch in Mexico! You appear under your true form!

- There are no true or false forms. All they are real. It's true that it was me, but it was not my intention to hurt you, just to warn you. And you shot me. See? Now I could return you the harm that you did to me, but I'll be _gentle_ with you.

The woman gasped, stunned. _A female Nephilim! How is it possible?_

- Joachim Karel, the last of the Nephilim, died two years ago. He had no descendants. With him died the High Breed.

- You're mistaken, Marie. He had offspring. It's me, his daughter. How and when I was born is no longer your concern. And now you begin to understand, there in your heart, what is the role which I pursue, which my people are pursuing.

Marie began to shake her head in horror.

- For we'll spare Lara Croft's life - continued Bathsheba -, who killed the Dark Alchemist, our greatest and wise benefactor, and who found the key to murder my father. We'll spare Selma Al-Jazeera's life, who for years plundered Eden's necropolis and had the gall to use the Sacred Scepter against the beings who served us. We'll spare your life, you who for years resisted to the Cabal and linked to our enemies. We'll spare the life of all your friends and colleagues. But we _won't_ spare Kurtis Trent's life, who committed a greater crime than all this together: to kill the last pure Nephilim, a creature far superior to him using the glass of deception... glass that you and two others keep with the same zeal.

The Navajo woman had paled to death. She seemed about to faint, yet with a calm voice she murmured:

- And I guess now you want those crystals. You stole the Periapt and now you want the Shards.

- If you deliver them to me, I will comply with what I just said. If you don't deliver them up to me, we may not forgive so many lives.

"Schäffer confessed me that, in a fit of rage, he almost kill you. It's a very serious offense and he'll be punished, since he was ordered to not damage you. He transmitted me the speech with which you threatened him. You're a very brave woman, Marie, and be sure that I apply to myself this discourse. Unfortunately it's still the same. I need the Shards. I want them. And there's no time for more speeches."

There was a heavy silence, and then Marie said:

- Justice will be served. When this is over, when you run out of people to threaten with death, justice will be served. There won't be men, or spirits, who will made justice with you, both you and yours. It will be the time.

- I'm eternal and immortal. Time means nothing to me.

- That said your father, and all of your race's beings, and they now lie in the dust. You're as immortal as they were. The same crystal can tear your life with a single stab! So that's why you want the Shards! To end up with the last chance of your death!

With a precise wave, Bathsheba tore the veil. The face that appeared behind the fabric was, for the first time, altered, and her cheeks flushed.

- Only if the glass is wielded by a Lux Veritatis, it can kill a Nephilim! And the last Lux Veritatis is going to be sacrificed in atonement of the Blessed blood shed! There's no comfort to you, Marie Cornel! Surrender at once to your fate!

- Lady ... - muttered a voice behind him.

- WHAT! - she exploded, turning furious towards the mercenary that had spoken, who felt alarmed at her wrath.

- W-We just gli-glimpsed a tr-truck on the horizon - stammered the soldier - We believe that it's him...

Bathsheba took a deep breath. Then she turned to Marie and grinned:

- Mother, behold your son.

(…)

Sciarra couldn't believe he had been so lucky. They had left him in charge of the English woman, no one else to worry about her. Apparently, Croft was not the most valuable hostage for the beautiful Lady... and that left him some time to "have fun" with her.

The jostling led her to a secluded area by the rocks, making sure that no one would notice them going there. Lara got carried away.

When they were alone, Sciarra met her mocking eyes and her sarcastic grin. He decided that he would wipe that smile off her face.

- Are you going to abuse me being hurt, boy? - she said sarcastically.

For answer, he pushed her against the rock and muttered:

- Now I'll teach you if I'm a boy or a man. And I don't care about your gunshot wound. Vixens like you deserve that and much more.

He stepped back a few steps and sat quietly on a rock. He looked around. No one was around. So much better. He began to clean and load his gun calmly, saying:

- You're very beautiful. The most beautiful English I've ever seen. Of course, you're not as beautiful as _her_, but you've better body. – he adjusted the silencer to the gun's and then he said suddenly, - Undress.

She stared at him. She was no longer smiling, but the Italian felt that she was taunting him with her eyes.

- Listen, pretty. - he continued - There are two ways to do this. By hook or by crook. If you choose to collaborate by the good way you'll perhaps even have a good time. If you do it by the hard way, it will be much more unpleasant. That Turkish friend of yours... pretty girl! I haven't stopped dreaming about her since I saw her for the first time. I couldn't wait to see what was under her clothes... although I may reach that, since it seems, she will be the next to fall...

- You're a pig.

Sciarra smiled.

- No more than any other of my kind. We're soldiers, girl, and no Sisters of Charity. And all we're equal... mercenaries, legionnaires... now that I think, that guy you fucked the other night was not a Legionnaire? Did you ever ask him how many women and girls he raped in his years of service? He must have a pretty full quota...

- So do you seriously think all men are as disgusting as you? - Lara said with mocking voice.

That bothered Sciarra, who pointed her with his gun:

- Okay, slut. We will do so. If you're not undressed immediately, I shot you down. Then I'll rip your clothes and do what I please with you... I don't care if you're alive or dead... Undress!

Lara's back went off the rock and said:

- Okay, bastard, what I take off first?

_Wow! The girl has balls!_ Well, if she wanted to play, they would play.

- Starts by taking off your arm's bandage. - the Italian said cruelly.

He had scored a touchdown. Lara reached out and began to retire the bands from her arm. The other smiled as blood stains appeared. Finally the bands fell to the ground and appeared the tablet that Marie had adjusted with straps to hold the broken bone. She also had to withdraw it, and after recent cotton detaches, it appeared the bruised broken arm.

- Hell - murmured Sciarra - That must hurt. Go on.

Lara wore a fur robe that Marie had given her, tightened to the pants. She took off her tunic and pants with difficulty. Finally, only were left the bands that were wrapped around their breasts, slightly damp with blood. She put her hand on them, but then he got up and said:

- Stop it, precious. I'll do.

He took two steps and with a sharp pull, he tore up and down the bandage. At the time Lara seemed to have a moment of anxiety and hesitated, collapsing to her knees.

- Hey, hey! Don't be such rushes, since I'll ask you the blowjob later... OUCH!

Suddenly, Lara had dropped a knee into his groin. The next blow fell on his chin, and another punch knocked him down to the ground. The gun fell from his hand and saw it no more. Then he received one, two, three kicks in full stomach. He tried to rise, but a third punch slammed his face into the dust. Suddenly he was grabbed by the neck, and Lara would have broken it right there if not for a stern voice commanded:

- Let him go.

Lara raised her eyes and saw Schäffer, who was pointing at her with the gun. She released Sciarra, who fell coughing and gasping in the dust, and quietly picked up her clothes.

- Why the hostage is naked?

Sciarra had the decency of not responding. Lara, for her part, put on the robe while the chief curtly ordered the Italian to retire. Then he looked at her.

- Lara Croft. You're truly a strange woman. Naked and wounded, yet still you had the strength to beat up this pig. I hope him to learn the lesson. As for you... you've been lucky. You're free. Someone has been exchanged for you.

Lara looked at him, alarmed, but he grabbed her arm and led her to the camp. Along the way, the soldiers turned to look at her... since the robe barely covered her thighs and it was adhering to her body as a result of the bleeding. Each time she felt weaker.

- What have you done to her? - she heard a furious voice.

For its grave timbre she recognized Kurtis' voice. She looked up and saw him there, surrounded by several soldiers who aimed their weapons towards him, but he stepped up to her and held her in his arms. He was also badly injured.

- What are you doing? - she whispered, looking into his eyes.

- We haven't done any harm to her. - Schäffer said aloud – Her aggression is from one man to be punished for his insubordination.

Kurtis's put his arm around her and escorted her to a vehicle parked there.

- Listen – he whispered in her ear as they went. - I've changed myself for you. They have accepted your freedom if I stayed. Bathsheba has given her word, and I have no choice but to trust her.

- I can't do that! - she gasped, closing her eyes.

- You have to. You're hurt and nobody will go with you. Drive to the north. You'll meet Selma, Zip and Meteora's monks. - all this he said quietly - Make them to take you to a hospital. And above all, don't try to come back for me.

He opened the door and helped her to sit in front of the steering wheel. The soldiers remained tense, pointing to Kurtis, without leaving their site. She neither saw Marie nor Bathsheba anywhere.

- I can't forsake you like this. - insisted she .- Why are you doing this? I'm worthless! I'm not important to them!

- You're important _to me_. - said Kurtis – You're the most important. Don't ever come back, Lara. They will release my mother later if they're pleased with the outcome.

He closed the door and stepped back. Lara touched his arm, in a last attempt to stroke him, but her fingers slipped on the bloody bandage that wrapped his arm.

- Drive fast, _milady_. - he smiled – You'll now be alone.

Two soldiers appeared behind him and held him away from the truck. She, who kept looking at him, saw how he formed a few words with his silent lips. _I love you_.

Lara stepped on the accelerator.

The truck disappeared shortly afterwards, leaving behind a trail of dust. Then Schäffer said:

- That was soooo nice. I almost mourn. No doubt you're a man of his word, Kurtis Trent. And now let's go, since such romanticism made me feel hungry.

While being carried to the van, Kurtis distinguished a white shadow in the corner of his eye.

On the top of a rock, with her white robes flapping in the air, the beautiful Bathsheba smiled through the veil.

(…)

The hot sun burned her shoulders and tears made she couldn't see clearly the path she followed. But she hit the throttle. _Don't look back, Lara. Above all, don't look back. And stand a little more the pain. If you live today, you'll fight tomorrow._

After a while, she felt so weak she couldn't continue driving. She had the front of her tunic soaked with blood and her wounded arm gave her real electric shocks of excruciating pain. She slowed down and eventually stopped. Letting out a groan, she leaned on the wheel, trying to put some brakes on the tears that ran down her cheeks.

_Don't cry, stupid woman. Don't cry. What would Werner say if he saw you whining like a kid? He would say: "Well, now she seems the little aristocrat, Lord Croft's daughter!" Get up and stop mourning!_

Her hands, sticky with blood, slipped across the leather steering wheel. A lock of hair fell over her eyes and saw nothing more.

_Oh, you're so brave, so very brave, Lara Croft! How easy was it when you have your arsenal of available weapons and you could kill the bad guys could two by two, if you wanted. And look at you now. To this has brought you your damn pride. Weep, then! That's all you have left!_

- Lara! Lara!

Why they didn't let her? Why not let her die?

A pair of warm, affectionate hands surrounded her and separated her shoulders from the wheel. She saw the distorted face of a young sweet brunette she knew.

- Lara, Lara... it's me, Selma... Dear God, what did them to you, those bastards... Please, come and help me!

And suddenly she felt lifted into the air and spread on the back of another vehicle, on a pallet, while Selma's covered her with a cloth. She began to shiver again. Too much blood lost.

- Hey, baby, hold on. - whispered a black-skinned boy, who also thought she knew – All is going to be fine, right? We'll take you to a hospital. And when you get well, it would be time to return all the damage done to us. You'll see.

The boy smiled and winked. Then put his arm around the waist of the brunette girl, who leaned her head against his shoulder as she moaned softly.

Yes, she knew both them. But her last thought, before vanishing, was for Kurtis.


	26. Chapter 25: The unexpected gift

**Chapter 25: The unexpected gift**

- Find her immediately! Damn it!

Monteleone, furious, had ordered to raise the camp in seconds. Suddenly, there was no point remain a moment longer in Turkey. The Scepter was gone. That treacherous bitch, Bathsheba, had taken it. And for days, they kept being attacked by those horrible creatures, those who smiled and adopted the contorted face of his victim. They had had enough.

But as they prepared to leave, the boss received tremendous news: his most precious jewel, his lovely and sensual Maddalena, was also gone. And worst of all, she had taken the precious Vatican's documents. It was an unexpected blow to him. Furious, he had ordered to bring him Bay Li harassed her with questions, but she stood with downcast eyes and said only:

- I don't know where she is, _signore_. I last saw her yesterday, at night.

- Damn you, woman! You were her friend! Don't you know anything?

- No, _signore_.

That infuriated the _capo_, because she had the nerve to run away and steal him while he was sleeping. And that was something he could not bear. How could his Maddalena leave him? Is it possible that she had been offended by the punishment in such tremendous way?

He gathered his men and said:

- To this day you know that no one leaves me, but I do. Maddalena couldn't have gone too far. The only thing that she has known in life is the port of Syracuse and the shadow of my protection. She won't succeed alone, so find her immediately. Got it? And if that doesn't motivate you enough, you must know that those documents are my whole life.

And they had come to fetch her. They tracked all around. Even making an unprecedented effort of courage, they had dared to approach the necropolis. But to no avail. There was no sign of the beautiful ginger.

For the first time, Daniele Monteleone had to give up. In a fit of rage, he ordered to set fire to the remains Selma's camp went back to Sicily, taking with him his men and his harem of prostitutes.

(…)

In fact, Monteleone had underestimated Maddalena's ability. A woman who since her childhood lives badly in a port learns to lose fear of darkness and loneliness. She learns to flee when the situation requires it and hides anywhere, and even knows how to remain unnoticed until necessary. Maddalena was not only intelligent but also clever, and had reached the limit of her strength. Decided to leave her protector and although she was in an inhospitable environment and in an unknown country, she had enough courage to shake off the chains with which her master for some time chained her.

Maddalena was a woman who knew how to wait. She had waited patiently at the proper time. Now, she would never return.

She left the camp in deep night, carrying no more than a bag with some clothes and personal documents. She went quietly into Monteleone's tent, who slept peacefully, and went to the closet where he kept all valuable documents. She opened it and began to fold all the folders and put them in her bag quickly. At that time, she heard the boss' sleepy voice growling:

- Is that you, _carissima_... what are you doing here so late?

- Oh Daniele... - she muttered, shaking - I feel so miserable. Don't drag me away from your side. Forgive me for my fault.

Hidden in the darkness, the man had smiled.

- Ah, my beautiful one... don't torment yourself. We'll talk about that tomorrow. Now go to sleep.

And he had turned in his bed. Maddalena remained motionless until she heard him snoring. Then she took the rest of the documents and left.

She walked through the camp with a heavy heart. In the background, leaving him hurt her. There was a time when she still loved him... but that had been so long ago. She also regretted having to leave without saying goodbye to Bay Li... she expected that at least, due to her departure, the Chinese would become the leader of that particular harem. At least, she no longer had to endure the undesirable Sciarra.

She crossed the stream, shuddering at Kurtis' memory, topless, cooling his face. She promised to find him, wherever he was. But first she had to run away.

No one saw her leave. Half of the Italians slept, and for other half, some were drunk, and others with prostitutes. Nobody was interested in her.

She walked down the road, carrying the bag, while the beautiful rock formations greeted her along the way. The sky was starry and a cool breeze was blowing.

And Maddalena felt good and had not fear. She was free after all these years.

(…)

She walked all night. More than once she wanted to lie down to rest, but she knew she should not. They might find her as well. She had to leave the desert; even she was not sure where she was going... she simply followed the road.

It was the beginning of dawn when she found the cottage. She had removed her shoes because she bruised her feet and was exhausted. She saw a house that was literally shattered, turned upside down, inside and out. Beside her was a van. She went and toured the rooms, but found no one. Everything was destroyed.

She took some food and clothes (almost all them were fur coats and pants) and headed, determined, to the truck, while quietly thanking the Sicilian Saints for granting her a better means of escape. Thank God, she could drive; Monteleone had granted her the opportunity as a mere whim. Of course, she had never had occasion to drive. Now she could.

Going up and getting behind the wheel, she noticed a small object on the seat. She fumbled it with her fingers and pulled it out. To her surprise, she found a necklace made of wood and twisted threads, which had feathers hanging. The belt was broken.

Maddalena immediately recognized the object. It was a dreamcatcher, one of those little Indian little amulets that served to filter Evil. She hooked it to her neck and pulled the truck.

(…)

The Cabal's exodus ended in the Turkish coast, where they expected a ship to take them to the Island. Kurtis observed the massive ship with apathy. Thus those murderers still have money to finance that. Unbelievable.

Since he voluntarily surrounded to his pursuers in order to free Lara, Kurtis went everywhere with shackled hands and feet, like a criminal, and escorted by two heavily armed mercenaries. But he had sworn never to use his mental abilities. Bathsheba had plucked him that oath. If he tried to use those, Marie Cornel would immediately receive the pending shot in the forehead.

Marie, fifteen feet from him and also escorted, looked distressed at her son. They hadn't allowed her to approach him. Nothing she could say to him. And now a greater grief would be added to all that... because the second part of the deal was to be accomplished.

Men began to rise and carry luggage as they climbed the vehicles to the cargo hold. Kurtis turned to Bathsheba, who had come quietly. She no longer wore the veil, but kept her face hidden in the depths of her hood.

- Meet with your word now. - he told - Release my mother.

She turned and made a gesture to the men who escorted Marie. These, on the spot, removed the woman's handcuffs, while Bathsheba added:

- You're free, Marie Cornel. However, you'll remain in my thoughts. I know that you're a person of great worth and you know where the Shards I'm looking for are. But all this I'll ignore, as a sign of my great benevolence.

She omitted to say, of course, that she would continue searching the Shards and, if necessary, she would resort to any means to find them.

Bathsheba had turned to the men escorting Kurtis and made another gesture. They pushed him to the access platform and made him go up on the deck. Thye then handcuffed him to the railing of the board.

Marie then became desperate.

- Kurtis! – she stretched her trembling arms out to his son - Kurtis!

- Come on, oldster, you already heard! - muttered one of the mercenaries, pushing her back – Get out of here!

Several guns turned towards Marie turned and she went back, shouting:

- Woe to you, all of you! You're so bloodthirsty, that you'll drown in blood! Damn, damn you all!

She extended her finger towards Bathsheba, who was watching her quietly.

- Impure devil! Your time will arive, as it came to all of yours! Monster! You won't overcome! You'll never, never have peace!

- Get her out of here. - she wearily ordered.

Between shouts and insults Marie was dragged beyond the pier and left locked in a hut of fishermen. Then, the ship cast off.

Kurtis had attended the scene in silence. Nothing was left unsaid. He simply could not understand how he could have reached that situation. But he was not invulnerable. He had been beaten many times. This time would be the worst.

(…)

They sailed to the south and the second day turned to the East. During this time, Kurtis remained on the deck, handcuffed to the railing. Schäffer had thought he might be able to cast himself into the sea.

Against all expectations, Sciarra had not been punished for trying to rape Lara. On the fourth day, very proud of himself, he began to boast of the explorer's beautiful shapes, making sure that Kurtis hear that. He hoped him to have a fit of anger, so he would try to pounce on him and hit him. It would be funny to see him tugging at his handcuffs.

However, Sciarra felt disappointed. Kurtis was not willing to enter the game. He responded to his provocations with a sneer, which further infuriated him. The Italian promised himself to down a peg to that proud when the others didn't watch.

Six days lasted the voyage. Bathsheba rarely slept. She wandered along the deck drinking the sun and breeze with delight. The sea will charm her cold heart. Even she did relax and drop the hood to get the sun on her white face, oblivious to the voracious male gazes that ate her in silence.

Kurtis wasn't at all insensible to her beauty. From the first time he had been confused by that face. There was something in her that was familiar to him. That fresh young beauty, which had at once a strange maturity, as ancient. Not only because her features, her black hair and green eyes, but the feeling she conveyed. She seemed to be a woman who had lived centuries on the Earth, but her body, her face, her absolute charm was young.

- Oh, you've guessed it?

He looked up. She was there at his side. Her hair was disheveled. She had released it and went beyond the waist. Her cheeks were flushed by the sun.

- At first I thought you were blind. That you would never recognize me. - she smiled .- But I know it was hard to recognize me. Your instincts prevented you from a pure Nephilim, born of the Great Goddess and I... I wasn't born directly from Her.

She looked at him silently for a moment, and then she shook her head.

- How can you stay so cold, now you've again your mortal enemy in front of you? You don't mob, you don't fret. You're an ice floe. Don't you wonder how it's possible that, despite two years ago you doomed to the Not To Be the last Nephilim; you have in front of you a female Nephilim, a maiden whose face reminds Kristina Boaz as she should be before both Eckhardt and the acid razed her in body and mind, but whose aura and essence will no doubt bring you the name of Joachim Karel?

She walked over to him and spreading her white hand, put it on his arm.

- You don't even tremble at my touch. Maybe because I'm beautiful? It's easy to hate the horrible. It's easy to kill demons. Your hand didn't hesitate when killing my father. For I'm Karel's daughter. Would you now hesitate if you had to destroy this beautiful woman? Would you stab me how you stabbed him?

Her hand reached up to his shoulder. Her slender, long-nailed fingers hooked the edge of his shirt's sleeve and lifted it, revealing his burned shoulder.

- Here he hurt you. He erased your order's symbol before you kill him. Oh, I know everything. I've seen it. I know many things. But there remains a great mystery for me, which is you. I don't understand how you've been able to fulfill your oath. I've been said you were crafty, you were treacherous and deceitful. I've been said you didn't know what honor is. And if it's not honor this you have done... What else is honor then? You're going to the slaughterhouse. And I know that you could sink this ship right now if you want, using that Don you have. You would sink us all inside. Why don't you try?

He watched her for a moment, then he turned his face towards the ocean. She slipped her hand again, and he shuddered... of pain.

- Would you let me heal these wounds, Kurtis Trent? - she said, referring to his flayed arms, to the wounded leg. - The Nephilim have always been great healers. A touch of our fingers, a breath of our breath, and there was no harm, however serious it was, that will not be repaired...

- Great paradox, is not it, ma'am? - he suddenly said with sarcasm - You had the power to heal... but you knew only to kill and destroy everywhere.

The spell was broken. Bathsheba went back, tight-lipped, furious.

- You really must have loved so much this woman to surrender in exchange for her freedom, right? But now the world will never be safe for her or for anyone. Perhaps she would be also destroyed, if she intrudes on our way again. Although you won't see it!

She turned and walked away. The wind ruffled her clothes and hair.

- Lady! - then shouted Schäffer - We sighted the island!

(…)

- Lara... how are you? The doctor says he can't believe you've endured so many days with that loss of blood in tow... I said him you were very, very hard, that you've already received several shots. You'll see, you've revolutionized the hospital, as soon as you get better, many will come in to ask you some autographs...

But she was not listening. She was not strong enough to respond. And it was not anything physical, because she was completely recovered after transfusions along all that week, except from those continuing nausea and so annoying vomiting. But she had no strength or desire to continue fighting.

- ... you see, not all days may have entered Lara Croft on the floor! - Selma was saying, sitting beside her bed - Zip spends his days entertaining the people and has even forged your signature to sell some autographs for his part...

What to do now? She had to think of something. She could not stay stopped. She shouldn't return to England yet. But in Turkey there was nothing left to do.

- Selma – she murmured, interrupting the Turkish' happy chatter - thank you for your interest in getting up my courage, but I remember you that Kurtis has been dragged away by the organization which wished to kill him since he was a kid, his mother has not yet appeared, and Radha has been kidnapped from Surrey, as I've been recently reported. Do you really think that something worse could happen now?

She narrowed her beautiful black eyes and muttered:

- To surrender. That would be worse.

Lara smiled, but her smile was bitter. Suddenly, she punched the mattress:

- They may believe I'm an idiot! No? They gently released me, but then abducted Radha, a teenager who is in a foreign country and has not had a very idyllic life! And she was under my custody. What do they want me to do? To ignore that just because they have been spared my life? To stop pursuing them just only because that Miss Perfect has decided to overlook me because they have Kurtis to prime with him? Hell!

She stopped, altered. Selma watched her in silence, her face solemn.

- We continue to be the Shards' keepers. - she whispered - Marie, you and me. They will come after us, sooner or later.

- Of course - Lara hissed - but I won't be waiting them to come for me! When will I be discharged?

- In two days.

- In two days we must be prepared, Zip, you and me. We'll contact Ivanoff and Charles. We have to find Marie. Then... we'll see what to do.

- She was about to be released?

_Hopefully_, thought Lara, discouraged, _I hope so._

(…)

- May I enter? - said the doctor smiling, banging the door slightly.

- Of course.

Selma had retired to rest and finally Lara had some moments of peace. A peace that would not last too long.

- I don't know if you were aware of this - the doctor started to say, flipping a few documents in her hand - but still it's my duty to tell you.

- Tell me what? Is there something wrong?

The doctor smiled.

- Bad? Not at all. It's really incredible that you were able to restore. That bullet, not having to slow its speed through your arm, would had pierced your heart or at least severely damaged you lung. But you reacted like ... as if you already knew you were going to get shot right there.

- Somewhat, I knew. - Lara smiled - What happens then?

- Well, you'll probably already know, but as that period of nausea and vomiting made so difficult for us to operate you appropriately, I took the trouble to order tests to rule out more serious problems, and finally, this is what we got.

And she gave her a typewritten sheet. Lara took it and examined it carefully. Then she paled at seeing that, and lifted her stunned face to the smiling doctor.

- But ... This is impossible! Are you sure...?

- We're professional, Miss Croft. We're perfectly able of distinguishing a pregnancy from gastritis.

- But ... this...!

- I see you didn't expect. Cheer up. Considering how bad you came to be, if this has not been marred is more than being lucky. It's almost a miracle. Another miracle.

She turned and walked toward the door. Opening it, she turned to leave, and when looking again at her, she laughed.

- Woman, don't make that face! Expecting a baby is not the same as being diagnosed with terminal cancer. And you're putting face of terminal cancer.

She closed the door, still laughing, and walked down the aisle. Lara spent a long time rigid, motionless, staring at the positive on the sheet.

- Lara? Are you awake?

Upon hearing the Selma's voice, she made a ball with the sheet, put it under her pillow and crushed sitting on it. The tireless Turkish was back there to keep her company.

But Lara didn't hear anything she said. Her head was spinning and she wanted to vomit again. Pregnant! She was pregnant!

_How is it possible?_ she thought, desperate. _You took care. You had everything under control. You thought that would not fail. And it failed! Now what? What to do?_

It was as if the world was opening under her feet. Never, ever, ever, she would have wanted or expected this. Then she knew that she had failed the first time... and that one mistake was enough to regret it now. Great! Lord Croft's daughter, a fully grown woman, just screw it up as an inexperienced teenager!

- Lara, are you okay?

Selma was looking at her, worried. Why she never left her alone? Why she was so concerned? For a bullet shot? For a broken arm? For having almost bled to death? Or because her love was now in the hands of his enemies and she may not ever see him again? Or because...?

They shouldn't know. No one ever should know _that_. In silence, Lara considered the possibility of undoing the wrong. Get rid of that new burden, of that unexpected gift. But if she did, she must hurry. And nobody had to know. At heart, she knew it could not go forward. She had to get rid of it. She had to find Kurtis.

- Selma, I'm exhausted. I need to rest.

- Agreed. But call me if you need me, okay?

Just shut the door, Lara jumped into the bathroom to vomit.


	27. Chapter 26: Lilith's curse

**Chapter 26: Lilith's curse**

Four days later, Lara, Selma and Zip were at Romania's heart, facing the imposing Bran's castle, permanent home of Professor Vladimir Ivanoff.

- Is this really Count Dracula's castle? - Zip asked, chewing gum, with the laptop under his arm.

- So say the legends. - Lara said smiling while guiding them through the corridors crowded with tourists. But when remembering the tapestry, the tortured prisoner, and the unfortunate fate of Loanna Von Skopf, her smile faded.

Ivanoff was waiting near his department. When the bass man, with cloves and glasses saw them, he came over and shook hands politely.

- I'm delighted you've decided to come! You know that wandering all around is not my point...

- Vlad, the castle is beautiful. - said Selma - The fire that Gunderson set to it now almost it's not even noticed.

He frowned.

- Undoubtedly, the Government has lavished their efforts (and pleas) to raise funds to rebuild this jewel. Which I can't say about other government's matters.

He led them to his office and made them feel comfortable. In those two years, the professor had gained great reputation for his studies on the Lux Veritatis and the Nephilim, closely linked to the history of his beloved monument.

- Well – he coughed at the beginning - we were contacted two weeks ago, when everything went to hell. I wonder about that connection failure...

- Listen, Mister Wise - Zip interrupted, stopping chewing gum - there was no "connection failure". My connections _never_ fail. Simply, we got into a great mess.

Taking the word, Lara told him about Monteleone's attack, the flight for saving her life, her healing, and finally, Bathsheba and his men's emergence and the entire sad conclusion. Selma added to her account their stay in Tenebra. When they completed, Ivanoff was thoughtful. Finally he said:

- All this looks very bad. If you want my honest opinion, you must face the fact that this beautiful woman is a Nephilim.

- How can you be so sure? - Lara said.

- Oh come on, darling. Basically, you know that, and better than me. You've been in the presence of this creature. You've heard her... you also met Karel. Tell me, did you see any similarities between those two? Something in the way they speak... in the way they simply are?

She was silent. Zip and Selma looked at her, concerned.

- More than similarity... I see a very great match. But Vlad, it's not possible. Karel was the last Nephilim after I destroyed the Sleeper. And Karel's dead.

- But ... - Ivanoff leaned towards her - what if he had a daughter?

Lara's mouth twitched with a sarcastic grin.

- Should I remind you that he wanted _me_ to do that? That he wanted to use me as child bearer of his offspring?

A bubble gum burst in Zip's face, covering him with pink sticky dough, while he kept watching at Lara, stunned by what she had said.

- Well, yes ... - Ivanoff admitted - but...

- Wait. - Lara said suddenly, squinting - Now that you mention it... Bathsheba's face... has something familiar to me.

Everyone looked at her expectantly, while Zip tore the sticky gum from his face. They saw Lara quiver and then she exclaimed:

- Kristina Boaz!

- What? - Selma and Ivanoff said at a time.

- Boaz! The Cabal's scientist! The one punished by Eckhardt being transformed in an abominable being, killed by Kurtis.

- And who almost killed him. - Selma whispered grimly.

Lara had risen and was spinning around the room, as she often did when her mind was working at full speed.

- Kristina's face was burned... deformed by an accident, so I didn't notice before. But Bathsheba's face... is very similar to hers. The same black hair... the same green eyes... just she's thousand times more beautiful than the other! It's to her she looks alike! Or maybe...

She collapsed on the couch again, dazed, as she started to understand.

- My God. Giselle. It's up to Giselle.

- Who?

- Kristina's sister! That blonde, crazy witch who kept me sedated for days when I was the Cabal's prisoner. I remember her feeling some sort of attraction for Karel... she seemed to have written she loved him on her forehead.

- So there was some feeling there and Miss Perfect was the result. - Zip crooned, making a new gum ball.

Lara laughed.

- With Karel? Come on! Karel was unable to love even his own shadow.

- No need to be in love to want a fuck...

- I know. But it stills doesn't convince me. During that interval, Karel was obsessed with me. I don't think...

She paused again. She frowned.

- Unless that Bathsheba was a laboratory creation.

- Lara! - Selma shook her head – Humans can't be created in a lab! Maybe that woman has a beauty and attraction we have never seen in other women, but it's still a woman!

- Oh yeah? And what about poor Nikos Kavafis? The devil she threw to him was her pet? And what about the stolen Periapt and Scepter? Come on, Selma! She's not a normal woman!

- A Nephilim. - Zip hissed, grinning evilly- A Nephilim created with Boaz's genetic material, mixed with the Fallen Angel's sperm.

- Yuck, Zip, shut up! – the Turkish shuddered.

For a few minutes, nobody said anything. Finally, Zip, bored, said:

- Well, you would say I'm a simple, but to me these talks about that sex symbol's origin don't take us anywhere. For when we decide something, poor Kurt would be cooked and impaled on a cross...

- Don't joke with that! - Lara exploded, turning towards him. The poor guy jumped back, terrified by her passionate fury.

Ivanoff coughed then:

- Do you know anything of Mrs. Cornel?

- No, nothing. - Selma said - But she's the third Shard's keeper.

The professor scratched his head.

- If only I had that _mafioso_'s valuable documents! That would help us greatly. They would say us something about the Scepter and its mission. We would outline some of the plan achieved by the enemy!

Lara stood up then.

- Selma, Zip, you'll stay here with Vlad. You have to check all files and entries that we have... about anything. For this are necessary Vlad's wisdom, Selma's knowledge and crockery and Zip's computing. I will contact you.

- Where are you going? - they said.

- To search some help. We can't do this alone. But I would tell you. I'll intend to find Marie... and maybe _we'll _get those documents.

(…)

Maddalena shuddered, huddled in the ship's hold, listening to the sailors' snoring. Then she lit a lamp and picked up her bag.

Two days ago she had left Turkey. After driving towards the inhabited region, she went crazy wondering here and there about Bathsheba's men.

The news flew fast. It turned out that two days ago, an impressive ship, loaded with armed men had left the coast. Everybody talked about it quietly and in fear. That had altered the beautiful prostitute, because if they had gone, it meant they had already captured Kurtis... whom she wanted to find before anything else in the world.

Maddalena spent three days in the port, earning the passage's money to go to Cyprus. It was rumored that the ship had taken that route. At least, it would be a clue.

At first she felt disgusted for having to stand over her those heavy, hairy bodies, reeking of sweat and alcohol, which reminded her of her doomed childhood in Syracuse. But she was a red-haired white woman in a land where all women were brown skinned and with black hair. She triumphed as ever and she didn't only made money for the fare, but also to stay for a while without having to repeat the disgusting experience.

Thus, the third day she could embark on a fishing ship which would stop at Cyprus. Of course she had to promise an extra session to the captain, but fortunately he seemed cleaner than his men. And now, huddled in the darkness of the cellar, Maddalena went over Monteleone's documents in silence, stroking with the other hand the dreamcatcher that hung from her neck.

- Look! A cultured whore! - mocked one of the sailors – She even knows how to read!

- Out of here, you asshole! - she snapped, pulling out a butcher knife she had stolen in the port's shipyards, which of course, was doing her great favors to ward off unwanted men.

The sailor was eclipsed and she returned to the study of documents. Her heart was beating violently. The world disappeared around her, except for what was saying that sheet...

_Year of grace 1490. The Great Goddess has awakened. We shudder to think of possible consequences. I know we are warriors and we swore to devote the Don to fight against the demons, and especially against the Nephilim, but our heart yearns to think what would be to confront Her. For She, among all the creatures that spewed the Voragine and Heaven rejected, is the most terrible and dark. Her appearance is that of a beautiful woman, but both her breath and her heart burn like fire. Her cursed children have awakened to take revenge on us. And our faith falters for this._

_She, the impure Lilith, waving her Scepter will bring us down at once. We are afraid. We can fight the devil, against the very Nephilim, but how to deal with a Goddess older than the world? Can we defeat Her, She who reads minds and hearts, whose arm is longer than the River of Fire, which can crush us with a powerful blow of her Scepter?_

_We are the servants of the Light of Truth. We must be strong. If we could wrest the Scepter... maybe we could drive it away. But nobody will be able to approach Her._

_When She arrived engulfed in flames, no one will approach Her. Even those who love Her._

- Hey, beautiful! - exclaimed a rude voice.

Maddalena looked up and shouted:

- If you don't go away now, I caress your gut with that – she brandished the knife - Got it?

_Year of grace 1497. The war drags on. She has returned to her dark abode, but has infused new energy into Her damn kids. Nephilim are now stronger than ever. And we are few and weak._

_She retired voluntarily. She really didn't her white feet to step on this defiled land. The pure air chokes Her, because She just breathe sulfur. She, Bulinka's princess, devil's queen, the impure Lilith. With Her withdrawal, we again have a chance._

_We can't believe, however, that we had such unfortunate luck. Now I know that it complies with the legend: Lilith found the Periapt. She tore it out of the hands of Meteora's holy community. Were Her sons who turned it over and She did the unthinkable: She broke it into four pieces._ _From one of them She carved the Damned Scepter as Her weapon. With it She can govern all the demons of the earth and tear lives in one fell swoop. With the other three fragments, oh God! She carved three Shards. And then She regenerated the Periapt to leave it intact._

_My pen shakes when writing. It's said the Great Goddess cast on these objects a terrible curse. She extended Her sharp fingers on them and cursed them. She made them unbreakable. And now even though we try, we can't destroy the Periapt. Neither the Shards. They get rebuilt just when broken in pieces. Lilith's evil spirit forces them to stay together._

_But that's not all. The Shards are cursed... I can't believe that the Great Goddess's haunted them... to destroy Her own children! She said: "I give to the Three Periapt Shards power to condemn my beloved children to the Not To Be, but only if they're wielded by a Warrior of Light, a Lux Veritatis. I do this because my children are proud and didn't want to listen to my advice. If they act wisely, they will live, but if pride corrupts them, they will die. _

- It's really terrible. - Maddalena whispered to herself - As if a mother manufacture the weapon that would kill her son. Why would she do that? What did them to displease her so much?

_But still full of rage, the Great Mother didn't leave Her children alone. She gave them the Sacred Scepter... and is not in vain a terrible weapon, more powerful than the Shards themselves._

_Lilith's Scepter, the Fourth Periapt Shard, coated in silver to not reveal its real stuff! Whoever wields it can send legions and legions of demons to ravage the earth, or to thrown them to the Voragine's black abyss if its carrier ordered so! It's truly terrible and powerful weapon._

_Now, our Order must find it. We have both the Periapt and the Shards, but without the Scepter, we're still at a disadvantage. If we take it, we could dominate the hellish creatures and send them back to the abyss from which they came. But it's very complicated..._

The manuscript was stopped there. Sighing, the ginger turned on the paper and returned it to the folder. She could not stop thinking about what she just read.

At first, everything had seemed fanciful to her. But now it was as if something strange went through her gut. Only she had known how eager the search of the Scepter was for Monteleone far and wide around the world. He had lived for the Scepter, for the Scepter he had dreamed of. He had had it at two inches from his nose and had lost it. She understood his rage and despair until trying to kill Lara.

She crossed herself with trembling fingers. Hell, demons, Warriors of the Light, dark goddesses... too complex for her devout mind. She, who had spent so many nights turning the beads of her rosary, to clean her impure soul, felt awe at the mention of those things. And if those documents were mentioned as valuable, it was because all that they had written was true as life itself.

And now, that dark woman, Bathsheba, whose beauty and perversity itself reminded Lilith, had taken the Scepter. Aspire she to command Hell's legions over the Earth? Why she would desire Kurtis' death? What danger could lead to her that quiet and reserved man, but also lethal if he wanted to?

While thinking about it, Maddalena saw the first rays of sun filtered between the frames of the ship. On deck, a sailor had just announced they're sighting Cyprus.

(…)

- My daughter!

Giselle embraced Bathsheba, who had dropped again her hood at the time her feet trod the beach's golden sand.

As they descended, mercenaries watched the two women sideways, like two twins who take time apart.

- I brought you a gift. - murmured the girl, smiling.

- Him! – the scientist said, shuddering.

Kurtis left the boat, escorted in handcuffs. He looked around the beach and the imposing fortress, then he looked at Giselle. He made her a recognition sour face, but it was she who came forward to him as she said:

- It's been two years since you and your partner in crime plotted to almost bring us to our end. How different things are now, right? I'm no longer the fragile young woman whom you met then. Now I'm the Mistress... the leader of this community which is now strong. As you can see, a bad carved crystal isn't enough to turn off the Cabal's splendor.

Bathsheba seemed uncomfortable with that speech, but Giselle, ignoring her, came to her and pulled the cloak from her shoulders. In doing so, the hair that was pulled into the fold of the cloth, dropped to her knees. At the moment it was as if a wave of perfume filled the air. Giselle smiled, knowing that at that time, all those men just landed from different corners of the globe and trained to kill, desired her daughter to despair, but also that, if one of them stretched out to touch would fall foul struck by his audacity.

- Look at her! - Giselle watched Kurtis as she spoke - Perhaps you've watched her these days, enjoying her beauty. But she won't be more to you than your own death. You already know who is she, right? You thought you had destroyed all the Nephilim! You see how easy it's for the Cabal to breathe life back to the Blessed. The High Breed reborns again and you're looking at their new Mother. Do you see her well? Do you find any similarity with the being that created my sister Kristina, whom you gave death?

- Yes, - Kurtis said mockingly – I can see you love to show her like a puppet. You've surpassed yourself, Dr. Barbie: from being a butcher you've become a clown.

There was a heavy silence, and among the mercenaries' ranks a muffled laughter was heard. Schäffer moved forward, indignant, but Giselle came before. She threw her hand back and slapped Kurtis. Not too hard, of course, because she had small and delicate hands, but the diamond ring he carried in one of her fingers scratched his cheek, opening a path from the temple to the corner of his lips, which began to bleed slightly. Bathsheba looked fascinated the red liquid that was poured slowly.

Giselle raised her hand again, but then her daughter came forward and stopped her.

- Leave him. - she whispered .- All that he wants is to provoke you.

She pulled back, panting and flushed.

- Get him out of my sight! - then she ordered.

They hastened to oblige her. Slowly, the mercenaries were leaving the beach and retreating to their resting places. After paying their respects to Giselle, the leader also retired. Mother and daughter were alone on the beach.

- I hate him! - then gasped the scientist - I hate him with all my strength! I'm going to wipe that sneer from his face. I'm going to get him on his knees before both us! Enough time he has mocked us. What he thinks he is! We'll see, when our boys take care of him, if he remains being so insolent.

Bathsheba said nothing. The breeze blowing on the beach ruffled her hair, wrapping her in a kind of black cloud.

- And when you've destroyed him, what else, mother? When you've crushed him and removed the last drop of his blood. When he would be dead...

- There will come our success' time. My experiments will end up alright. And you'll be the origin of the new Race... as high as it was before. You're Karel's daughter, never forget.

_And what will you do, mother? Would you offer me to a hideous mortal? Would you mix me with him as my father wanted to do with that explorer? Will that unfortunate's death return your own personal peace? Will you stop suffering, to mourn at night, only because of having seen Kurtis Trent's blood poured on your fortress' slabs? Is that what you want? Is that what you've become?_

- I must go. – she whispered - The journey has been long and I'm exhausted.

She turned and headed towards the fortress. When looking up, she saw a small face between the curtains of one of the rooms and said:

- What shall we do with the girl from India?

- At the moment we'll hold her. She'll serve to put pressure on Lara Croft. But when she ceases to be useful...

_Yes, mother. You'll kill her, as you kill everything that no longer serves you. Eckhardt disgusted you, but you're now like him. But what do I care? They're only mortals. The world is full of mortals, and they never finished. I'm the only one that stands alone. I'm the only important one here._

(…)

- Very nice your superhero's reply up there! - mocked Sciarra, putting his face through the bars - We'll see, when they begin to tear your skin into strips, if you kept being so brave.

Kurtis didn't answer, but he willingly would have crushed his boot's sole in his gritty face. Instead, he forced himself to remain seated, because he knew if he got up, that coward would turn away from the bars and laugh at his frustration.

_Let him talk, man. Someone would make him shut the fuck up._

He was many feet underground, in the fortress' dungeons. Despite being right in the fucking XX century, that crazy of Giselle had those tunnels dig in rock and also compartmentalized cells with bars. Now Kurtis was chained to a wall through which oozed seawater threads and those chains that held him seemed taken from a torture museum. It was madness.

Down there was no sunlight. Everything was plunged into permanent darkness, except for the dim light of lanterns, electrical, lit only when someone was down. And the cells were empty. No one was there except him, or so he thought. Down the hall he perceived some clarity and the deafening roar of the waves. That did he think that maybe he was inside the cliff he had seen before on the beach.

While Sciarra was still insulting him, he made a mental recount of his wounds. It was not much, except for the shot in the knee. He should add the massacred arms, the blow on the head, a split lip and a scratched cheek. It was not hard, especially considering that he should be prepared for the worst.

- What the hell goes with you? Are you deaf? Come, answer like a man. You know what I mean? That English bitch had more balls than you. Of course she was released by order of the boss; otherwise I would have taught her who _really_ the boss there was. And I had her on her knees, ready to blow me, when...

_- Why don't you shut the fuck up and go to hell?_

Sciarra turned his head in surprise. Kurtis was not the one who had said that. He also looked to the left, and to his surprise, a deformed shadow emerged from the darkness. In the cell next door, also in chains, was a bent old man, dressed only with shreds of cloth, and covered with pupae and dirt.

- What the fuck! – the Italian mocked - Look, asshole, you have a cellmate! A disgusting hunchbacked old!

- Get out of here, you piece of dross! - said the old man, extending his arms - Be careful, because if you remain here, I'll spread my leprosy on you!

It was enough to make Sciarra go back off with a jump, dropping the bars. The old man, without thinking, bent, jingling his chains, and picked up a rock. Then he threw it while repeating:

- I said get the hell out of here!

The stone whizzed through the bars and beat the Italian in the nose. This one, screaming, went back upstairs, cursing loudly. There was a thud, like a door closing, and then there was silence.

- You have good aim, old man. - Kurtis said.

- Marcus. Call me Marcus, son .- the old man slumped in his corner and disappeared from his view, so dense was the darkness, although only a barred wall separated them - That damn rascal was already putting me nervous.

He curled up and crossed his legs.

- Huh, don't worry. - he added - I really don't have leprosy, those are the wounds that make me these damn chains.

- How long you've been here?

Marcus closed his eyes.

- I can't remember... weeks, perhaps months. I don't know. The fortress is recent. I was already their hostage when it was built. I was captured in Moscow, almost a year ago, I think. It's hard to keep track below. In this eternal shadow...

He could already look at him better. He was swaying back and forth while holding his weak stomach.

- Then they moved me here and I was thrown in this filthy hole. I was the only occupant of this prison until now ... and I'm so hungry...

- Why they hold you?

- Vengeance. I'm valuable. The only one left of mine. Ah, what a pain... they forgot about me. At first, I was tortured. I thought I would die. But they got tired. It's no funny torturing an old man... he's weak, he dies soon. They left me here. I'm fed about once a day. I asked them to kill me... but they don't want. I will die here of hunger, and rats will eat me... So if I don't drown at high tide.

- The tide comes up here?

- Yes, son. We're on the cliff. When the tide rises, its hollow belly is full. The dungeon was flooded. She knows it. That crazy blonde knows. She knows that the tide rises and rises until it reaches my neck and I have to cling to the ceiling so that the chains don't drag me to the bottom and drown me...

He groaned and twitched. Kurtis didn't need to be a genius to know that poor man was not entirely sane.

- And you, son? Why are you here?

Kurtis smiled.

- Vengeance.

(…)

Marie wandered aimlessly along the road. She was stumbling over the stones as she wept, as escaped through her eyes all the helplessness of the world. For years she had avoided mourning. She had bitten her lips. She had had no right to mourn, to lament. She should ensure her son, herself, her husband, wherever he might be. Now she had nothing left. Now she could mourn.

She didn't know how long she had walked. Perhaps she had spent many hours when her feet took her again to the camp near the necropolis. Only a few remnants of it were smoldering from the fire ordered by Monteleone. She didn't even ask herself why. She walked hesitantly towards the entrance of the cemetery, but not before taking a lighted torch she found in the sandy soil.

She traversed the tunnel lighting up with one shred of fire, and at her step she set fire to all the Nephilim lying in their niches. That concavity of the stone kept them individually in a sort of oven where they burnt, easily consumed. She walked calmly, knowing that she was destroying the last evidence of the existence of those creatures on Earth, and basking in it. The flames spread and made prey of the tunnels, but she left them behind and entered.

She was not altered by the horror of the putrid pit and its stench. She crossed that monstruos chamber and when she felt the jaws opening under her feet, she just dropped the torch. The fire caught in the rotting flesh and insects and spread like fire. Marie reached out and continued to advance slowly, as the huge beast roared in pain.

When her steps led her to Tenebra, she felt seized her beauty, but she also regretted having had to sacrifice her torch, because she willingly would also burned that den of Evil, if the rock could be burned. But her eyes were now fixed no more in the city. She had sighted the crucified ones.

She descended in silence, her heart in a fist and her soul tore apart. She walked, stopping at every foot of a cross; reading each of the executed ones' signs and trying to associate the faces of those known to the deceased. But his friends were no more hanging there. Only dry debris.

With a glistening film of sweat on her skin, she reached the greatest cross of all.

- Konstantin. – she murmured, reaching out, but her fingers didn't get to touch the skeletal feet. They nailed him very high, high up, so he could see the agony of others while he suffered his own.

She slipped down on her knees with her face pressed to the dry wood. She buried her face into the ground. That dean man was not Konstantin, the man she had loved, the man she still loved, since he had flown high, high up, higher than that cross. He was not there. She should not mourn. He no longer was suffering, while her...

If she had had the clairvoyance's Don, as him and their son, she would have seen him, firm and calm, the day he was crucified...

(…)

_Hammer, nails screeching. Screams, sobs. Heartbreaking screams. Women crying, children wailing. The final sacrifice. The Order's last day._

_Eckhardt watched his work: one hundred twenty-two crosses nailed on the way up to the city of Eden. He was flanked by his two closest partners: at his left, a cold and impassive Karel, at his right, Gertrude, who watched that with shining eyes._

_Slowly, relentlessly, Gunderson's men had been nailing them one after another, without pity for the woman, for the young child of five years. One after another. The concert of screams and howls of pain froze blood in the veins._

_Gunderson himself had earned the honor of escorting Konstantin to his place of torment. He was about fifty years. He was still strong; despite his gray hair he was terribly alike to his son, according to Gunderson. He had not been told to abuse or beat him. Gunderson had not been ordered to torture him and it was something that the bald thug appreciated. Although he was ashamed to admit it, there was something in that quiet leader who inspired him great respect._

_- Father! Father! - cried a voice._

_Konstantin turned. Two mercenaries ran to catch, among those waiting to be crucified, a young girl, barely sixteen, and dragged her to her cross. Her brother, seeing him, began to scream, but the guards held him._

_- Oh father! - screamed the girl – Help me!_

_Konstantin's eyes clouded. Everyone called him "father" from the day the Council voted him to appoint a new Grand Master. But that appointment had never come. And now he could not help her. He could not even help himself._

_She was nailed on the cross naked and behind her so was her brother, and the rest. While watching that, he heard Eckhardt's voice:_

_- I hope, Konstantin, your satisfaction is complete. You see, I have not neglected any of your own. I do not want you to feel alone when it came your turn._

_Gertrude then added:_

_- They should feel satisfied! They're going to die the same way their God died._

_Karel then smiled. Konstantin crossed his eyes with him. Sure, he knew it. The Lux Veritatis didn't worship any God. It would have been foolish, huh, Konstantin? Only the founders of this city are gods!_

_When his turn came, he was left sticking with serenity. The nails through his wrists and ankles didn't hurt him more than the torture he had been previously received. From where he had been located, he could see the rest. Those who had been the first were already dead or vanished. The rest raised their desperate faces at him._

_What could he say? What could comfort them now?_

_Eckhardt, Gunderson and Gertrude withdrew, while the mercenaries stood guard. Only Karel remained in place, silent. After a while, he moved to the foot of the cross._

_- Have you come to see me die? - Konstantin said calmly._

_Karel smiled again._

_- I'm immune to hatred and rancor. I don't hate you because your misfortune is my fortune, and you'll die while I live. So I don't care about what happens to you and yours._

_Moans and sobs could be heard along the way. One of the men closest to Karel began to squirm and insult him. But he kept looking at Konstantin._

_- You must know that you die because your son fled. - he continued – He's not like you. He's pretty coward. When he just knew to whom served Gunderson, he immediately disappeared._

_- I'd rather see him hiding in the skirts of a woman than serving the Cabal even for three seconds._

_Karel twisted his smile to hear the response from Konstantin. Nothing broke the unbreakable will of that man._

_For hours, he stood patiently at the foot of the cross, while the rest of the people were dying. As expected, Konstantin was the last one to die._

_- Will you say something about your son now? – he asked when he saw him choking. - Where is him? It's to him you sent the other two Shards?_

_The dying man opened his eyes, puffed out his chest one last time and whispered:_

_- He will return and be your death._

_The air escaped from his lips and he picked up until being inert. Karel watched him in silence, and then walked away slowly._

(…)

- Marie!

Flexible arms surrounded her and separated her from the land on which she laid. How long had she been there, vanished at the foot of the great cross?

- Marie! For God's sake, how could you think to go here? The manticores are on the loose!

It was Lara who spoke, who seized her shoulders.

- How did you find me? – she stammered, wiping the mud from her knees.

- There's a terrible fire on the outside! Everything is burned, the necropolis, the putrid pit! The authorities have warned us and I came right away for if you were around...

Marie smiled.

- It's been me. The camp had already burned, but I've broken those nasty mummies, that hideous beast. They disappeared. Let the wind takes their ashes.

Lara looked at her, pitied. The poor woman was alienated.

- Come on. - urged her - We have to find Kurtis. Where they left you? What path did they take?

She arise her and surrounded her shoulders while driving away from the crosses. Marie turned the view one last time.

_Farewell, my love._


	28. Chapter 27: The Island

**Chapter 27: The Island**

Marcus became a pleasant company the first days Kurtis spent in prison. They didn't touch him yet. But no one went downstairs to leave food.

- They will make you starve first. – said the old man- And when you begin to find the leather of your boots appetizing, they will start.

He knew much of what was happening on the Island. He knew almost everything except where was located that lost rocky outcrop. Judging by the weather, in the Mediterranean Sea... but the sea was vast.

On the evening of the second day (they didn't know for sure because they lived in a permanent shadow), a storm broke. The thunder echoed in the cavern of the cliff, tearing the ears of the two prisoners, and after a while, the waves began to flood the cells, as Marcus said. The cold and frothy water was leveling... and when it arrived to the neck (Kurtis' neck, since the poor Marcus was floating long ago) they had to grab the top of the bars and fight against the tide and the weight of the chains, which struggled to drag them to the bottom. All the while the desperate struggle lasted (hours, maybe) Kurtis came to fear that the water would completely cover them, but it didn't.

- Nay! - Marcus said, spitting water after sinking for the umpteenth time and be rescued in a flip by Kurtis through the bars - That bastards have very well-timed this! From now the water level doesn't raise more. And thanks to God because sharks don't come here!

But Kurtis, who could feel the salty water in each of his wounds, had no time to worry about sharks. At least that horrible pain meant that they would cicatrize before than expected.

Hours later, the water level fell and the tide retreated, leaving them soaking, wet and shivering. Kurtis started to take off the wet bandages from his arms because he couldn't resist the itching anymore. Some daylight was finally coming in the cells and Marcus stared at the horrible cuts.

- Holy God! How did you do that?

- I was tied with thread of wire, and I released myself.

- Well, son, you're crazy. You could have lost your arms. And you see, anyway you've finished here... – he lowered his voice - Yes, we've all finished here.

He sat in a corner of his cell, splashing on the wet floor, and began to scratch a wound that was near his shoulder. Kurtis squinted through the dim light and could see a strange mark on his shoulder.

- What is that, old man? A tattoo?

Marcus smiled and came over to show him.

- There was a time when this symbol was my whole life... Now, it's just a passport to the end.

Kurtis looked back at that symbol, and then laughed softly.

- That's impossible!

- What?

The man looked up and pointed to the tattoo:

- If I told you _Luceat eais in materia virentis_, you should answer...

- ..._maxima vires ad incrementum_. - Marcus muttered, looking at him stunned.

He stared stupidly at Kurtis, who was still laughing.

- But... I thought I was the last one! – he sputtered.

- So did I. - calmly replied the other - What are you, Healer or Fighter?

- I'm a poor old Healer. - Marcus said, smiling at last.

Kurtis laughed.

- Congratulations. It appears so that you're the last. Not the last Lux Veritatis, but the last Healer.

- So you're Fighter. God! I have a Fighter in the cell next door. My prayers have been answered!

- I don't know what you mean.

- You can get us out of here!

Kurtis scanned the old man's face, protruding forward between the bars.

- You're alienated, Marcus.

- I think not! You can pop these bars. You can tear down that damn door there! We would leave, son, we would achieve escape.

Kurtis made a sneer.

- And when I would have kick down doors and bars, where do we go? Assuming that I could defeat all Schäffer's men (and I assure you I can't), how would we go out from here? Would we cast ourselves to the sea, swimming to nowhere?

Marcus opened his mouth, then closed it. He was right. They were trapped, hopelessly trapped.

- I'm just a Healer. I heal with my hands, but I can't see neither future nor past, nor do matter to alter my will. Only you, the Fighters, you could do that.

_Damn it!,_ Kurtis growled to himself, _Why doesn't he understand? It's useless! We would accomplish nothing. They have always been the same, heck, these damned Healers, believing that we were superheroes or something like that just because we can... destroy what we like... and see things that we don't understand._

- If we don't escape from here - insisted the elderly – we're dead. These people are mad... especially that blonde scientist. Scientist... ha! She's a psychopath. She makes savagery with people... with children. Some years ago I heard she was the most "clean" of all them... that she didn't know what she did, that she was not like the others. But now she's worse than all together! Sometimes I hear the mercenaries talking about her... yes, I've heard a lot ... and that beast of Schäffer...

He stopped, because somewhere he heard a metallic ringing which became more strident. Marcus took a deep breath and continued:

- Look, I spent so many months being their prisoner. But I was not alone. They captured another Healer with me... we were not nailed to crosses in Tenebra because we simply escaped. We didn't fall into their nets. Obviously the Alchemist was fond of saying that he had crucified all of us ... what else wanted him.

"That other Healer was a young boy, who would not reach his twenties. I don't remember his name, poor boy... I'll tell you what they did to him to give you an idea of what awaits you."

- Why were you kept so long? - Kurtis interrupted.

- Oh... That was up to the... to the Lady. She wanted to see how we heal. But we were soon disdained. A Nephilim always knows how to heal much better than us.

Another metallic blow. Marcus shook.

- I told you I was tortured, but they didn't that for long. I would have died. But he was young and endured enough. They made him atrocities. That Schäffer is a monster. The doctor does not engage herself in torture. She lets them do. It's like a pay that is added to their salary. She just tortures her patients... but prisoners are for Schäffer. When the Lady got tired of us, we fell into Schäffer and his people's hands. What a savage... have you heard about the Throne? – he said suddenly.

Kurtis sighed.

- That must be nothing good.

- It's their electric chair. They call it the Throne, those bastards... of throne it has very little. They gave me a few jolts. They almost killed him... They hit his eyelids to his eyebrows so he couldn't sleep at night. I pulled the tape from his eyes... I won a few beatings, but I could not bear to see the poor boy so...

The metal hits were accentuated. Kurtis tried to find out where they came from. They seemed to be over them.

- ... and when they saw that I took it off, they said, _"Do you want him to sleep, man? Now he'll sleep a lot..."_ and stitched his eyelids with needle and twine. They didn't put out his eyes because they preferred to pierce them while sewing.

Kurtis sharpened his hearing. Yes, no doubt. The blows were coming...

- Why they didn't also sew my eyes? Because there was no much fun with an old man? They continued to give shocks to him, until they almost killed him. And then they began to mutilate him. They castrated him with scissors and...

The door opened with a bang.

- Oh, God, this guy again. - Marcus sighed, seeing Sciarra.

- I've been sent to announce you that you're going to have _some fun_. - the Italian said with a smile of happiness.

- Sit here, asshole. - Kurtis said, raising his middle finger.

There was a thud, like guffawing. Marcus was laughing.

Sciarra advanced to the bars. He brought a metal rod in hands (where the hell did he get it?), so with that he had been putting that scandal.

- Well, it seems the bird chirps before hatching! I already thought you were dumb or stupid. Be careful, because if you piss me off I'll caress you with this.

And he brandished the bar.

He heard footsteps. Someone was going down. Several voices were heard.

Ignoring Sciarra, Marcus crawled to touch the adjacent cell and hissed:

- They're coming for you! Good luck, son, but I have no hope. Maybe when you pass the first day, you would agree to try to escape. It's better to die than endure this indefinitely.

Sciarra threw a blow towards him and he had to withdraw. Kurtis was taken out the cell and he let himself be led quietly. The Italian followed them, with a look of pleasure on his face.

- May the Holy Light protect you. - Marcus muttered, and began to pray.

(…)

Marie blinked as sunlight hit her in the eyes. She looked at the charred remains of the camp and saw a group of soldiers moving in the remaining pockets of flames and extinguishing them. One of them turned around and went towards them, wiping sweat from his smeared forehead.

- Damn! – he exclaimed - 'So you're the arsonist? What a miracle to have found you alive!

The woman looked at him and turned her face. Lara apologized:

- She's not feeling very good. Then I see you, Justin.

She accompanied her to one of the jeeps and sat there.

- These you see are a British Army brigade. - Lara explained to her - Justin and I were partners in an expedition some years ago and he owed me a favor. You see, we have some help. When we heard that the sites of Cappadocia were on fire, we tried to come as soon as possible... You could have died burned down there!

Marie touched her face, and felt hurt. She felt her forehead and eyebrows and noted that they had been scorched. But she had not even noticed.

- Your friend Selma will be angry with me... I destroyed her life's work... but I no longer resist, Lara ... I can't ... this is the end.

Lara frowned.

- This will be the end _for them_, anyway. You can't give up now.

She ducked her head and her face disappeared into the silver and dark locks of hair.

- I was released on the coast. I don't know which port it was. They took a ship and to the sea. Lara, we have no idea where they went. We don't know where they have taken him. We have no clue. We have lost.

But Lara smiled.

- We still have the Shards. And they still want them. We can play with that... and listen to me. When I returned from India, I brought with me a teenager girl who was almost in my custody. They kidnapped and held her and surely they will ask an account for her. Justin and his men will help us. And we have also Selma and Ivanoff, two very good thinking brains, and Zip's ability to keep us connected. They won't defeat us, Marie. And if they do, it wouldn't be because we have not fought.

- Hey, Croft!

She turned. Justin had returned. He was a man of medium height, dark haired, wearing a neatly trimmed mustache and military uniform that did not suit him very well, but there was no doubt that he liked to wear it like a second skin. Marie expected him to be reliable.

- What do you want? - continued the man, showing her two different weapons - The AK or the Thompson?

- I prefer the AK. - Lara smiled. Justin threw her the weapon and she caught it on the fly. She began to load it quickly.

- Are we going into combat? - stammered the old woman.

Lara smiled.

- I'm not one to be left to wait to see where fortune falls. I look for it myself. And if this is the only language these bastards are going to understand, so be it.

(…)

- Lara - Zip said, adjusting his headset - Lara. Lara? Do you receive me? Lara! Lar...!

- Yes, man! I receive you! - he heard Lara - Any news from there?

Zip wiped the sweat from his brow.

- Well, Vlad had been sifting through his notes... but he has not found anything about that bloody Scepter. The Lux Veritatis files don't talk about it...

- Wait - Selma said, picking up another handset - Let me... Lara, do you hear me? Yes? Look, if the Lux Veritatis knew something of the Scepter, and not what Monteleone taught us about Van Der Brieck twins... that's certainly not held by Vlad. And he had been gathering material for two years. You don't know the amount of information that this man has here!

- In other words, we need to look elsewhere, baby. - concluded the boy.

Lara paused for a moment. Then she added:

- Agreed. I think I know where to look. By the way, Marie is with me.

- Was she released? Is she okay?

- Yeah, okay ... we're going to leave the Shards in a safer place, including yours. I'll call you as soon as we know more. Meanwhile, we are informing you. Perhaps there is something that may interests us, apart from the Scepter.

And she hung up. Zip snorted and touched the table in search of gum. Not finding it (he had chewed all of it) he grunted.

Ivanoff again put on his glasses and murmured:

- I'm going back to the library. I'm sure that something is beyond me...

When he left, the boy stared at Selma with affection.

- Frowning fits very well with Lara, but it makes you look ugly, princess.

Selma sighed.

- I'm worried about everyone. This... this is a nightmare. For me it started three years ago. For Marie, much earlier. And Kurtis has lived that all his life. When we thought it was over... God! Why so much hate? Why these people can never forgive, can never forget? When will the killing stop? When they annihilate each other?

She buried her head and her soft and shiny hair slipped across his shoulder. Zip had to force himself not to reach out to pet it. He then remembered Sciarra, who had wanted to abuse her, and felt disgust and anger.

- Luckily, we have Lara. – he said to distract her – She's strong and knows what to do. We'll teach those bastards who rules here. And Kurt... well, he's a tough guy. - he smiled- Did you know? When I met him I thought he was a psychopath. I thought he would kill me. I later learned that his Order required the elimination of witnesses to... prevent you going around saying you had seen women with a snakes wig in the sewers of New York .- he laughed - But he didn't kill me. He let me go. He said he was tired of killing.

- We should hope he's not tired of living. - Selma murmured, closing her eyes.

(…)

The Turkish port of Cyprus was full of sunshine and scent of salt. A port which reminded Maddalena of Syracuse. But the island in which Venus was born had a very different picture. There, the blow of Turkish-Greek war had left deep scars even in Greece and Turkey. The Cypriots had not exceeded the horror, and even then, the island was still separated into two sectors, Turkish and Greek, divided by a high concrete wall, lined with strings of wire and guarded by soldiers armed with machine guns. If someone got too close... goodbye.

Therefore, Maddalena, although she felt uncomfortable among Turks, would not attempt to cross. She would not risk her ass. She remained in the harbor, to continue reviewing the documents that suddenly interested her deeply.

Sitting in the sun with legs in the water, she went over the sheets. Her Latin was poor (the bit that Monteleone had time to teach her) and it would not let her to understand many things, like _Luceat eais _and other phrases often repeated as if they were an invocation. Sometimes the Latin of the Lux Veritatis was too complex.

She had already learned who the Nephilim were, and so the Lux Veritatis, the Periapt, the Scepter and things like that. Everything wouldn't have gone far away from being the most delicious fairy tale or the most terrible horror story, but it was not because deep down, she knew it was true. If Monteleone, Bathsheba and that Britain explorer had fight each other to know what was that...

Suddenly a shiver went down her spine. Monteleone, Bathsheba and Lara Croft _had fought each other for that!_ Those documents were more valuable than she firstly thought! And now, they were in a dirty port of Cyprus, in the hands of just a whore...

She threw her head back and began to laugh. One of the sailors turned and pointed her. Yes, better for her than they thought her crazy. Just to see if they would leave her in peace.

Yes, those documents were important. They contained ancient legends, terrible things. For long nights she kept dreaming of warriors in shining armor that can move things with their mind, to heal wounds with his hands, which were facing some great powerful albino demons. She figured glass spheres in the hands of elderly monks, transparent crystal daggers plunging into damned flesh... and she was the one who had the documents.

She put all them in her bag and stood up. She had come to Cyprus, but she didn't know how to proceed. If she wanted to find Kurtis, or at least find out where Bathsheba and her people had gone, at least she had something to do. She thought that perhaps she could set free Kurtis (because she thought he was in their hands for the latest news from Monteleone) by exchanging him for those documents.

_Don't be a child_, she scolded herself, _you're not born to be a hero. Use your head._

For days and weeks she was around the port, paying attention to each conversation. She didn't understand Turkish but some people spoke in Italian and so much English. But they were neither tourists nor the fishermen, who gave the first clue to Maddalena. They were the prostitutes.

There were several of them on that port. They hadn't welcomed the arrival of that beautiful Italian. Her white skin, brown eyes, and above all, her totally red hair were a competition for their skinny and dark little bodies. But there was one who appreciated her.

She was a small, skinny girl, with no more than eighteen, and with a glance, Maddalena knew that syphilis was eating her from the inside. Her name was Safie and she used her affection to try to find out something.

They sat near the water when nobody was looking and then Safie began to tinker her hair and looking it through the light, fascinated by its color.

- Is this you? Is it natural? – she mumbled with her poor Italian.

Maddalena smiled. Everybody had always wondered her that.

- All my hair is red. - and laughed since it was obvious what she meant.

After many talks, when she thought she had won her confidence, Maddalena began to wonder what her interest was. At first, Safie glanced at her, distrustful, then she murmured:

- A beautiful woman surrounded by soldiers? You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen since I got here... and I'm here since my elevens, when I ran away from home, leaving that pig of my father. But now that you mention it... a week ago there were soldiers around here.

- How were they? - asked Maddalena.

Her small sunken eyes narrowed.

- They were... soldiers. I didn't like them. Padme and I went to serve them. There weren't less gross than the port's sailors but they paid well.

- Did they speak any language?

- Huh... a rare language. It seemed some kind of barking. And they did much shhh ... schfrrrr...

_German. They spoke German_, the redhead thought, shuddering.

- Others spoke Turkish, but it was not their native language, it seemed. And now that you mention it ... they came on a ship, yes ... but left at dawn.

- You know what tumble did they took? - asked Maddalena, excited.

Safie looked at her a moment and then laughed.

- Please Madda! I'm just a bitch! How should I know!

- Well, you drunk the customer and make him talk. Who has not ever done that?

The girl looked at her from the corner of her eye, suspicious, and then whispered:

- I asking for trouble if I tell you. Yes, I know where they go. They come and go often. But only the prostitutes approached them, because we have to eat. If not, I would prefer my father's fists and the breath of a drunk.

- Why? Where do they go?

Safie licked his thin lips and whispered:

- To the Island.


	29. Chapter 28: Extortion

**Chapter 28: Extortion**

Daniele Monteleone sat down, satisfied, in the spacious and comfortable sofa of his huge living room. It was nearly one o'clock and he had farewell all his men to meditate a while in silence as usual. He had also farewell his wife, his eight children and his grandchildren, in a long and complicated hand-kissing ceremony more akin to a royal family than a Sicilian one. His eyes had fallen in love in the smallest of his granddaughters, Agata, who at her five years old was not yet aware of what family she was born and the black future that awaited her.

He reclined on the couch while he spent his finger between the gums that had emptied Kurtis' blow. Seven teeth were broken, chipped, and one uprooted, between up and down. If he had not already been convicted, he would have given him an exemplary punishment.

So concentrated was in his thoughts that he didn't notice the furtive shadow that suddenly took shape in the silky curtain of his window. By the time he sat up, alarmed, Lara Croft was out of the darkness, pointing him with a gun, while smiling and quietly moving.

- Stay quiet. – she ordered - Get that gun I know you have in the lining of your jacket out and leave it on the table. If I remember well, you didn't want to waste no more silver bullets in my filthy person. Let's honor that decision.

With clenched teeth, the _capo_ obeyed, though he said:

- I have two men watching out there...

- Oh, those? I think you can now hire funeral services for them.

The woman bowed, took the pistol from the table and put it on the belt of her jeans while wryly noted him.

- So what, Monteleone? It seems you're seeing a ghost. By the way, I notice something is missing, where is your everlasting Martini?

- I don't drink at this time of night. - he said hoarsely, lisping because of the lack of teeth. - How the hell...?

- ... I survived? Well, you said it. I'm strong, and proud, and I also think myself very clever. The first one helps me to survive, the second one, to prevent someone like you to piss me off, and the third one to get what I want. Now you'll tell me about the documents.

- Which documents? - sputtered Monteleone.

- Your uncle the cardinal's ones. You show me the most irrelevant of them, I suspect, and saved the best part for you. Give me those documents and perhaps I'll turn a blind eye and I'll leave without killing your, although that's the least you deserve right now.

Monteleone coughed, and tried to loosen his collar.

- You're late, darling. Since I haven't these documents anymore.

A shot rang (significantly muffled muffler) and a bullet hit the gorse velvet's chair, right next to the _mafioso_'s head, pulling splinters and a cloud of foam. Monteleone shrank like a frightened rabbit.

- Don't piss me off, Daniele.

- I'm telling the truth! No longer do I have them. They had been stolen! That whore of Maddalena has them. A few days ago she disappeared from my camp and she took my documents. I have men still searching her, but nothing at the moment.

Lara had laughed.

- So that's your faithful concubine. I feel sorry for you, Monteleone. The problem is that now I have no reason to spare your life.

The other set his few teeth and hissed:

- If you kill me, my men and my family are compromised by a blood oath to avenge my death by giving their life if necessary. They will chase you and kill you.

She rolled her eyes.

- I've heard that a hundred thousand times. I've fight the Italian mafia before... and also the Chinese, Japanese, Russian and all the gangs that you may occur. You can't scare me with that, Monteleone. In any case, it's useless to threaten me if you're dead within three seconds. Unless you offer me a minimal compensation.

The _capo_ had begun to sweat. He took a silk handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped his neck and muttered:

- My uncle, Cardinal Ercole Monteleone, know the contents of these documents as the palm of his hand. He has studied them all his life from his youth. No portion or paragraph, very old either, he's unable to remember precisely. He currently resides in the Vatican, although his health has long been not allowed him to exercise his duties objectively, but the new pope has appreciation for his services rendered in the past and therefore enjoys him with the same rights and honors that a cardinal active.

He stared at her and said:

- If you want to know the contents of these files, go to him. I just got to translate a part and not much. If you want to get something, go to him.

Lara nodded.

- Very good – she admitted – it's the first time that you behave properly. And all this without wasting formalities and courtesies. And therefore...

- ... and therefore you're not going to kill me.

A charming smile crossed the woman's face.

- When we came to that agreement? – she said, raising her weapon.

With a shriek, Monteleone jumped off the couch and threw himself on her. His reaction caught her off guard and knocked her on the floor. The gun flew from her hand and suddenly a punch in her stomach made her bend in double. She pulled the man off herself with a kick and rolled to the side, recovering the gun.

Again he threw himself on her and grabbed her hair. With a nudge, she took him off, but was brutally pushed against the wall. Her head was buzzing and felt a warm thread of blood running down the corner of her lip.

Shocked, she saw Monteleone crawling into a wall and release a weapon from it. She felt the world spinning around her when she saw it was Kurtis' Boran X, which she could have recognized among all the world's weapons. A glance was enough for her to see, hooked to the side, the Chirugai.

- Bastard! – she gurgled in the blood that filled her mouth - Thief! That's not yours!

- What a surprise: - Monteleone smiled - Lara Croft, the plundering par excellence, calls me a thief. Come on, _signorina_, this is not a robbery. I saw your dear friend parking his motorcycle in front of the excavation's entrance shortly after you've left. So I hastened to communicate to Bathsheba he was there, and I even offered myself to capture him and deliver him to her...

- Bastard! - Lara repeated, advancing towards him.

- ... but of course she wanted to do it alone. I can't imagine how she did it, so delicate she is and so gross he is, but anyway, it's not my business. So, then I asked for some compensation and she said to me, _You can get his weapons_. And I really appreciated that! This gun is beautiful, right? But I don't know what the hell that disc is…

Lara thrown herself headfirst into him and they re-roll on the ground. Monteleone shot but only managed to blow up glass fragments and glass lamps. The Boran was a loud weapon and surely they have already been heard by someone.

She began to struggle while Monteleone was still emptying the ammunition clip. The noise was horrible. Finally, Lara dug her knee into his crotch and got the Boran in hand, while the man was writhing in pain on the floor.

Like a shot, Lara ran towards the Churigai, unhooked it from the wall and set it to her belt, retrieved her own gun and kept the Boran.

- Do you know? – she said, turning to the Italian, who was on the floor - I never swallowed your shtick of courtesy and kindness. You're pathetic.

- I already noticed that. You're also bad at pretending.

And suddenly, he rose and threw himself back on her, but it was not enough. Lara shot struck him on the forehead. He collapsed on the spot.

- Good riddance, pig. – she hissed.

And then she hastened to jump out the window, because she already could hear the men's cries and the barking of his hounds.

(…)

Maddalena felt that it would be worthless to do so. She could not ... she could not!

She walked with her heart stuck in the throat to the gangway of the ship anchored in the harbor. Here were those men whom had spoken Safie, carrying goods.

- They come to load and unload, and contract us - had told her the little prostitute - Sometimes people are taken. I've seen them. They catch the unwary and they drag them away. And sometimes they accept volunteers. But they never return. We believe that they're killed. In that Island dwells a hidden terror. None of those who leave, voluntarily or not, return. Only those soldiers. Never go to the port where their ship is at anchor, Madda. Never.

But Maddalena had nothing to do at the Turkish port of Cyprus. She neither wanted to stay there nor go back. In either of these two cases, Monteleone could find her. There was only one option: to go forward.

She walked with trembling steps towards the group of soldiers guarding access to the ship. She had put care for not being recognized, at last, after all, Schäffer had seen her when he negotiated with Monteleone the release of Sciarra, and of course, the damned Sciarra was now with them. So the woman who appeared before them seemed more a pretty helpless girl than a prostitute. Leaving behind the sexy dresses that Monteleone had given her (and that anyway were not really appropriate according the sad rags wore by most of Turkish prostitutes) she had chosen to wear jeans with a simple loose sweater that hid the beautiful curves which made her so desirable. Se had cut her opulent hair up to shoulders and carried in a stretched knotted bow. That, along with the complete lack of makeup, turned her into a beautiful woman, but was far from pretending to be a prostitute. Therefore, the group of three soldiers who saw her arrive didn't consider her as such.

- Well, well, what a cutest girl! - said one – What's doing a beautiful redhead like you in a place as dirty as this?

- I want to go on that boat. - she said.

The soldiers looked at each other and suddenly burst into laughter.

- She wants to go on that boat! She wants to go on that boat! Let's see, how useful could be a beauty like you in the horrible place we're going?

- Come on, shut up, Martin. - said another soldier, and turned towards her - I guess you come as a volunteer. Do you have some knowledge about science or nursing?

Maddalena's mind worked at the speed of light. Science? Nursing? Of course, it suited her well!

- I'm an emergency medical assistant. - she blatantly lied - I think my services could be helpful.

The soldier looked her up and down.

- Look, Martin! Do you think she's what she says?

- Maybe. The doctor is always interested in having new volunteers. Also, a pretty girl will appease her patients. Okay, beautiful, what's in that bag?

_The documents_, thought Maddalena, terrified. She pulled the strap of the bag tightly and flushed so that the men laughed.

- Look, look at that! Come on, let's not pick at her underwear. We may be some animals, but we don't play with decent people. What's your name, sweetheart?

- Giulia Manfredi. – she quickly answered, and then she thought: _God, I can't believe it ... I'm using my real name!_ That cheered her.

- Italian, huh? Okay, you can pass.

And they departed from the ramp, leaving her to pass. Maddalena came to the deck and watched the soldiers who came to continue loading goods into the boat. Those packages seemed more than suspicious. She didn't recognize the symbols, but that was probably hazardous material.

So they needed both nurses and scientists. She didn't know whether to feel imprisoned or feeling like she had just made the play of her life. Whatever it was, in all likelihood, that would lead her to Kurtis.

Her heart began to beat faster.

(…)

- Son... son, are you okay?

Marcus tried to reach Kurtis through the bars, but he had been thrown at the other end of his cell, so the old man's trembling arm couldn't touch his skin. And it was so dark he couldn't see anything. He just knew he was not moving. He was not moving at all. Even if he were dead, they wouldn't have left him there again. _Moreover_, reasoned the elderly, _he can't be dead. This one can endure so much. So much._

- Kurtis... – he tried again - Kurtis, son, can you hear me?

Nothing. He wondered if he was unconscious, in shock or even coma. _Bastards_, Marcus gritted between his teeth, _damned fucking bastards_.

He crawled to the bars and hugged her knees, willing to wait until the man recovered. If he recovered. But he was a Fighter, right? Those were hardly trained when formed in the Order. Yes, he would recover.

A mild, sweet scent reached his nostrils. And it was not uncommon. The cell smelled, especially, moisture, salty sea water. Also it smelled of decay, pus from wounds and excrement. It smelled of rust and enslavement, and the air was thick and hot, but when the tide was rising, the cold permeated his bones. Marcus wondered how he was not dead even in that filthy den.

The smell intensified and then glimpsed a clear light. The old man smiled.

- So here you are, Lady. Have you come to contemplate your enemy's suffering and defeat?

He saw Bathsheba in Kurtis' cell, leaning over his motionless body. Now that clearly the woman's body seemed to shine (hell, is that the Nephilim were also errant lamps?) he could see Kurtis, lying face down, completely naked, with strange burns on the back of the arms, legs and neck.

Those were the Throne's marks.

Bathsheba supported two fingers down Kurtis' throat and muttered:

- His pulse is very weak. They had no mercy with him.

- What you're pretending, Lady? That you weren't present at the torture, enjoying the show?

The woman turned towards him. She smiled sadly.

- No. I wasn't present, no desire to be. Unlike you mortals, my people never enjoyed others' suffering.

She unleashed her dark cloak which was around her shoulders and covered Kurtis' body with it. Then she went through the bars as if they were made of air and entered Marcus' cell. He did not move, but looked at her askance.

- You don't enjoy others' suffering, that's true. But you do something much worse. You're _indifferent_ to others' suffering. You're indifferent to everything: joy, pain, love, hate, all the feelings that humans can experience. And as you all are indifferent, you have more guilt and you're holders of greater cruelty. Your indifference is to blame for the suffering of this man. Although you haven't hurt him, your indifference will cause his death. Because I know you could save him, save us all, since nobody in this Island has power over you. But as you're indifferent, we'll all die.

Bathsheba looked calm. She was no longer smiling.

- Why did you come then, my Lady? To make fun of this poor old man, of this unfortunate, who's going to be smashed like that poor kid?

- I come to hear your poems, Marcus. - she said smiling.

For months, Bathsheba had gone down to the cell to talk with Marcus. There was something on that old man, in his acid sarcasm, which amused her. At first she had received insults and throwing stones from him. When they killed that boy, the other Healer, he went berserk and tried to attack her repeatedly. But over time Marcus was resigned to be visited by her. At the end of the day, when she was there, her fragrance covered the stifling stench of the prison, and her beauty made him forget the horror around him. Although she was his ancestral enemy, Marcus had to tolerate her presence.

To amuse her, Marcus, who was fond of literature, dedicated poems to her in which both he praised her, and also criticized her severely. Bathsheba caught that two-way meaning and had fun with it. The sooner he would make her angry, the sooner she would go, and Marcus worked in them.

- You want a poem? Well, I have one that defines you perfectly, my Lady. It's _Beauty_, by Charles Baudelaire, from his beautiful play _The Flowers of Evil._

And he recited from memory:

_I am fair, O mortals! like a dream carved in stone,_

_And my breast where each one in turn has bruised himself_

_Is made to inspire in the poet a love_

_As eternal and silent as matter._

_On a throne in the sky, a mysterious sphinx,_

_I join a heart of snow to the whiteness of swans;_

_I hate movement for it displaces lines,_

_And never do I weep and never do I laugh._

_Poets, before my grandiose poses,_

_Which I seem to assume from the proudest statues,_

_Will consume their lives in austere study;_

_For I have, to enchant those submissive lovers,_

_Pure mirrors that make all things more beautiful:_

_My eyes, my large, wide eyes of eternal brightness!_

Bathsheba laughed.

- Today you've been particularly fine, Marcus. I don't know whether to take this poem as a compliment or a criticism.

- Take it as you like, Lady. - grumbled the old man under his breath - But go away and leave us alone.

The beautiful lady turned and again passed through the bars. Her beautiful body began to fade with the darkness of the cell.

- Why don't you think that you're still alive just because you entertain me with beautiful words?

When her scent disappeared moments later from the environment, Kurtis began to regain consciousness, slowly and laboriously.

(…)

- Are you sure about this? – Father Dunstan whispered, hesitantly, as they crossed the vast St. Peter's Square.

- Of course. - Lara said, adjusting her glasses on the bridge of the nose.

- But... Lara, we can't threaten a cardinal of the Holy Church...

- Quiet. Trust me.

Having "settled" the problems with Monteleone, Lara had gone to Rome with the intention of meeting the _mafioso_'s uncle.

_And probably another mafioso again, though his cassock_, Lara thought.

However, although she had excellent relations with the Holy See because of numerous services provided in the past, Lara had no desire to be recognized, because of the dark matter that occupied her. Furthermore, those favors had been with the previous pope. She didn't know how Ratzinger could interpret her presence there.

Therefore, she requested the presence of Dunstan, who besides being a Catholic priest (a whole merit in the Anglican England) he had been good for camping more freely by the Vatican that such an explorer of tight clothing. Of course, Lara decided to pose as a "devoted companion" of the father... hence the horrible puff-sleeved blouse, a plaid skirt that reached to her ankles, her hair tightly in a bun at the nape and huge glasses of pear year.

Of course, they had to pass through the control of the Swiss Guard. One of the men in their colorful uniforms questioned them shortly after they exceeded the threshold that limited the access of tourists.

- We have an audience with Cardinal Ercole Monteleone. - solemnly announced Dunstan, feeling that this lie should be severely purged. – I'm the priest Abraham Patrick Dunstan. I come from the dioceses of England.

- And this woman? - asked the guard, nailing a suspicious look at Lara, who had chaste eyes directed towards the ground.

- She's a secular virgin who accompanies me in my work. She has rendered outstanding service to the cause of Christ.

The guard raised his eyebrows and let them pass, but they sent a guard around them as they walked through the beautiful blocks of buildings surrounded by gardens that were the dependencies of the cardinals.

- Cardinal Monteleone is old and sick. - he said when they reached the door of the room where he was going to receive them - Please be brief and not fatigued His Excellency.

And he opened the door, revealing a wonderful room lined with expensive fabrics and velvets, gold chandeliers and works of art decorating walls and corners.

_A vulture's home_, Lara thought with a shudder.

Sitting in a vast chair, an old man, thin and bent, whose wrinkles testified a long passage through this world, looked at them with sharp little eyes through round glasses. He was wrapped in cardinal purple and caressed the edge of a tea's cup he had in a nearby table. Lara smiled, wondering why she had expected him to have a Martini instead of a tea's cup.

The door was closed and they were alone with the Cardinal. Dunstan stood guarding the door as she had indicated to him, so Lara moved to sit on a chair in front of the elderly.

- Well? - Monteleone cleared his throat with a hoarse voice - Can you tell me what an insult is this? You know you're not allowed to have an audience with me. If I have you to be lead even until here is because I get bored lately in these units and was curious about what they might want some bold insolents.

Lara took off her glasses and hooked them at the top of her head as she watched him with suspicion.

- Cardinal, better not beating about the bush: we have come to talk about the documents you gave to your nephew Daniele.

The old man turned pale and stared into her eyes hard and inquisitive.

- You're not a lay virgin, right? And that man is not a priest!

- Father Dunstan has been a priest since long before I was born - Lara smiled - though I must admit that I'm late to be a virgin.

Monteleone was rocked in his chair.

- Get out of here immediately! You have sinned!

- We won't go, Ercole... can I call you Ercole? It bores me to be always repeating the same surname.

She leaned her face towards the old man and in doing so she released a few strands of hair.

- You gave to your nephew Daniele some documents... ancient manuscripts of the Middle Ages, handwritten writings by various knights of the Order Lux Veritatis... documents that are saying something important about artifacts known as the Periapt and Lilith's Scepter...

The old man hissed, as if the name of the goddess would have pierced his chest as would do a hot iron.

- ... you stole them from the Vatican Library... and gave them to your nephew... am I wrong?

- Worthless papers! - gasped the old man - No one is interested in those fantastic and absurd stories! Nobody believes any longer in that!

- Well, your nephew told me you passionately studied them for years and now you would be able to recite them in memory ... is not it?

Violent coughs made the cardinal to bent and get a flushed face. Dunstan went two steps forward, worried, but Lara made him a gesture with his hand, ordering him to stop.

- You have nothing to do here! - the old man cleared his throat as he could speak - These files are a up to the Holy See and its people! Why did you come here, slave of Satan?

- To make you tell me everything about what's in those documents. Many people's lives, but especially an innocent man's life, depend on what you reveal to me now.

- Never! - choked the old man – Get out of here, you whore! Go to atone for your pride!

Lara rose from a jump, with a terrible expression on her face. For a moment Dunstan feared she were about to strike the old man, but suddenly she turned and ran swiftly towards the door.

- Okay, Ercole. – she hissed - You wanted it.

- What will you do? – the cardinal jumped when her hand touched the knob.

Lara turned. Her eyes sparkled.

- I will now request an audience with His Holiness Benedict XVI. Although he has been Pope in a very short time, he certainly would remember the great affection that his predecessor, John Paul II, had towards the archaeologist and explorer Lara Croft, who so many valuable artifacts and works of art recovered for him and for the Vatican. For I am that woman!

- Lara... - Dunstan murmured in a choked voice.

She did not listen and kept shouting:

- I'm going now to tell the Pope that one of his cardinals has contacts with the Sicilian Mafia and has been for years emptying the Vatican Library and delivering confidential archives and manuscripts of great value to a bunch of thugs and murderers! That these files, because of your corruption and incompetence, Ercole, now are in the hands of an Italian whore lost in the vastness of the Mediterranean! Do you think the Holy Father will be interested in hearing that? I think so!

There was silence. For the face that put the Cardinal, he was close to having a heart attack. He put his hand on his chest in a gesture of pain. But at the moment Lara clutched the knob and spun it, he croaked:

- No! Okay, you win, bad bitch! You're a wicked woman, no doubt inspired by Satan.

Lara dropped the knob and turned slowly towards him.

- There are lives at stake, as I told you. – she said, recovering her manners - As you'll understand, I can't afford to be a good Christian.

The cardinal snorted and reached out a trembling hand to the tea's cup. Dunstan, who was red as scarlet, ran towards him and handed his cup.

- What do you know about the Lux Veritatis? – the cardinal then said, after taking a good drink.

- I'm the one asking the questions. - Lara sat again. – You should assume I know absolutely everything about that Order.

Ercole Monteleone shook his head and chuckled.

- No, woman, you would not know everything of them even if you were born in that order and you would have been with them until the end of their days. I studied for years this wonderful community and I still don't know enough... I, who am (and I can guarantee it) the most knowledgeable man on the Order alive right now... removing the members themselves, of course.

He took another sip and sighed:

- You tell me that there are lives at stake. I don't know what you're speaking about.

- Innocent people are going to be massacred. That should be enough.

The old man began to twist his knuckles and then whispered:

- Just tell me one thing ... has that Scepter been found?

- Yes, and I assure you it's in the wrong hands.

Monteleone groaned and shook his head.

- Bad news... you see, I found these files as a bishop, long ago. I loved the history of the Order and took it seriously. For years I dedicated my life to try to find even one only member of the Lux Veritatis... but if I met one, I never knew. They protected themselves fiercely, as if wishing to be invisible. Then I learned what a terrible threat was the existence of the Dark Alchemist, a man of wicked heart and unnatural longevity. But even more shook my soul when I heard the worst threats: Nephilim... and their disastrous Mother, the impure Lilith.

He paused and sighed again. He seemed to have aged many years in a few seconds.

- What do you know, Lara Croft? What can tell you this old man?

- Tell me about Lilith and the Scepter, especially. For what could my enemies want it?

The cardinal arranged the folds of his robe and declared:

- The Scepter is a weapon of great evil and power. According to legend, Lilith, who gave birth to the High Breed of Nephilim, conceived them with the seed of Lucifer; them came into dispute with her Children and fell out with them. The reasons are not known, but apparently these damn committed the sin of pride against their Mother, who enraged, created a terrible weapon that could lead them to victory... or destroy them.

He licked his lips as he reflected and said:

- For centuries, the Orthodox monks of Meteora's Greek community kept a carved spherical object known as the Periapt. An arcane object, delivered by the angels it's said, which had reflected as if by magic, one after another, all the symbols of Christian and pagan cults that have existed on Earth. Lilith stole the Periapt and destroyed it, dividing it into four pieces.

- But the Periapt is indestructible. - Lara objected.

The cardinal gave a dry laugh.

- For the divinity of the Underworld nothing is indestructible. She can wipe out life from the face of the Earth with one blow of Her hand. She broke the Periapt and divided it into four pieces, then She regenerated and made it indestructible for every mortal and immortal... except for Her. And then, with these four fragments which also became indestructible, she carved three daggers and a stick coated with silver.

Lara watched at him, speechless. She gasped in surprise:

- The three Periapt Shards and the Scepter! Then She was their maker... but it has no sense!

- Yes it has. Lilith is cunning and cruel. She is a mother but she has not maternal feelings. She hates Her children almost as much as She loved them before, and when they disappointed Her, she devised a punishment without limits.

The old man's eyes were covered with a sarcastic shadow.

- Do you understand this, woman? The Scepter is a device capable of controlling all the demons of the Earth. Who fences it will have the power to dominate the will of that creatures. It has other properties, such as opening people's hearts and mix dreams to cause both good and evil who dares to touch it, but its greatest power is this: with the Scepter in your hands, you can control the armies of Hell.

- This sounds like a horror movie. - hissed Lara.

The cardinal shrugged.

- You can believe it or not. But this is it. She handed the Scepter to Her children, and from that time they were the most powerful immortal and demons were subjected to their yoke. But they didn't suspect that the wily Lilith had created three daggers which, wielded by a Lux Veritatis, would kill any Nephilim that put them ahead. And, not content with Her cruelty, She gave these knives in person to the Order.

He doubled over and started laughing, as if this was funny.

- It's so typical! – he guffawed - What do they know those infernal beings about God's love? She's cruel and cunning so, at the same time She gave them the greatest gift, She condemned them to the worst curse. Having angered their Mother, She gave to their enemies the weapons that could destroy them. It's so typical!

He went on laughing while Lara was thinking fast.

- So with the Scepter, you can master the demons... and of course, the Shards are still able to kill a Nephilim.

- No! Only if it's wielded by a warrior of the Light! - croaked the old - And there are no Warriors of the Light left... alas, no longer are!

Lara frowned and hissed:

- That's what you think you, geezer. The Order has not entirely disappeared, nor their ancestral enemies.

- Tell me what you know! – the cardinal gasped, staring at her wide-eyed - The Scepter has been found! Who found it? Was my beloved nephew, to whom I gave the documents to facilitate his search?

- It was me. - Lara sentenced - But it was stolen and now they're trying to steal the Shards also. Don't you know anything more?

- Who stole it? Who!

The cardinal was increasingly upset. Dunstan peered down the hall, fearing that the old man's screams attracted the Swiss Guard.

- Who stole it from me is a female Nephilim creature. Two years ago, I believed I had liquidated the last of her race, but it seems that we couldn't think they were able to procreate... and finally, now that creature is old enough to face us. She has the Periapt and the Scepter... and now she wants the Shards, which are in my possession. They're also destroying the last Lux Veritatis... so that their revenge is complete.

Lara took a deep breath after releasing the tirade. She needed to control herself. She shouldn't show how much pain was causing to her saying that. _Kurtis._

- Can you tell me what is plotting this creature, Ercole? Something said by your documents?

The cardinal had been thought.

- No... and yes. Anyway ... it's clear that the Scepter will complete her mastery of all demons. It is also clear that she seeks to kill the only one on Earth that could kill her. But she also wants the daggers... perhaps to destroy them.

Lara gave a weary sigh.

- But the Shards can not be destroyed...

- Yes, they can! _She can destroy them!_ The One that created them can also destroy them!

Dunstan coughed politely.

- Excuse me, Your Grace; I'm just an ignorant priest who, however, has had contact with some of those... infernal beings. The creature, of which you speak, Lilith, is probably only a mythological creature. The proof is the many faces we have from her. To our Christian tradition, she was the first wife of Adam, who was given because of her rebellion to Lucifer and as he fell into Hell, she became a devil with him. But to the ancient Babylonian civilization, she was a goddess of great power, not necessarily related to Evil, but... just as dangerous. She's likely only a myth.

The cardinal smiled and looked at Lara.

- A myth? Do you think that, woman explorer? I see the truth in your eyes. If your eyes have seen the immortal Periapt, they have seen how it's impossible to break. How it can't remain broken as long as a sigh... Is it that a myth? Did you see that magic? If that magic is real... the Witch who created it it's real too!

Dunstan paused, frowning. Lara shook her head and said:

- Do you mean... it's possible that Nephilim was trying to reunite with her Mother for make Her to destroy the artifacts?

- And with that, to eliminate her last possibility of death. - hissed the cardinal - When all them had been destroyed... she will be fully immortal. The most powerful force on Earth couldn't stop her.

Dunstan returned to hawking.

- I think you are deducting too much. Even if all that was true, is not that Mother angry with Her children? What do you say She will make her this favor?

- She was angry centuries ago. Since then, She has slept in the darkness of Her abode. We do not know about what's now at Her mind.

Lara shook her head and said:

- I think this is messing. Too complex. Should I consider that Lilith is a real person living in a real site? Where arrears, therefore, that goddess of darkness?

Ercole Monteleone's eyes narrowed.

- I'll tell you... since it also appeared in the documents.

(…)

_(The poem "Beauty" by Baudelaire has been extracted from: William Aggeler,__The Flowers of Evil__(Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)._


	30. Chapter 29: The ritual

**Chapter 29: The Ritual**

Thick coils of incense rose into the air. In front of Bathsheba red candles were burning and giving to her pale skin a golden hue.

She was alone in the darkness of her chamber, calm and quiet. She had stripped of her clothes and her hair was loose in order to reveal herself to her Divine Mother as she had been born, naked and vulnerable. She walked calmly up to enter the circle of blood (her own blood, shiny and silver) that was drawn on the ground.

She dropped to one knee in the middle of the magic circle and clasped her hands in prayer, while her long hair spilled over her bare shoulders and covered her slender and delicate body. The sticks of incense and burning candles were not enough to warm it up, but still she never felt cold or heat.

With the right hand she was a holding a sharp knife (the knife of sacrifice which two years ago proved her immortality, Gertrude's dagger), with her left hand she touched her heart, beating fast between her small breasts.

She closed her eyes, and when her mind was free from all thought, with melodious voice she intoned the prayer that Gertrude had taught to her. The Invocation to Lilith.

_Listen, Mother Lilith. To you I speak._

_You who dwell in dark abode, have mercy on your daughter._

_You who breathe sulfur, have mercy on your daughter._

_You whose beauty is more radiant than the Sun and more mysterious than the Moon, have mercy on your daughter._

_You, whose heart engenders the immortal, whose hands crush the mortal, have mercy on your daughter._

_You, whose lips drip blood of the enemy, have mercy on your daughter._

_Thou who art the Beginning and the End of all life, have mercy on your daughter._

_Listen, Mother Lilith. To you I speak._

_Oh, Princess of Bulinka, listen to the call of your daughter._

_Oh, Venus Illegitima, listen to the call of your daughter._

_Oh, Wife of Samael, listen to the call of your daughter._

_Oh, you, who were the First Born, listen to the call of your daughter._

_Oh, you who Make Yourself, listen to the call of your daughter._

_Oh, you, Mother of All Us, listen to the call from your daughter._

_Angel of Darkness._

_Queen of the Voragine._

_Lady of the Beasts._

_Beautiful as the sea, strong as the foundations of the Earth._

_Look not upon my pride; look not on my lack of faith._

_Come to me now, as I invoke you._

_Listen, Mother Lilith ... to you I speak!_

At the time she exclaimed the litany's end, she made the blade come down with decision and made a cut between her breasts, continued to decline it up to the navel, and then the knife slipped from her fingers while she bent in two, gasping in pain.

The wound was not deep, but bled profusely, with a bright jet splashing the center of the circle. A strange drowsiness came over her and was about to vanish on the pool of her own blood, but then she noticed the wound was closed and she regained her strength. But she had not the courage to stand up. She stood there, bent, trembling with a sense she had never experienced before: fear.

There was anyone else there... with her.

She felt a presence in front of her, on the edge of the circle. She stood with her head stuck in the ground, while in her hair the blood dried, shaking. And suddenly, a voice that was not unique but seemed to arise from several hundred mouths at once spoke:

_You called me, Child. Here I am._

She felt the fear that gripped her coiling around her throat like a bunch of thorns. So long, cold fingers grabbed her chin and forced her to raise her head, and then her eyes beheld the Great Goddess, her Mother.

Her appearance was sweet and terrible at once. She looked like a tall woman, very tall (much more than her if that was possible) whose albino hair reached to the floor. She had that delicious body of an angelic virgin, with full breasts and narrow hips, in whose gentle members little snakes were coiling up and down, and there was not a single tuft of hair in all her glowing skin. The fingers that held Bathsheba's chin seemed knives, but held her with affection. Nearly transparent wings unfolded behind her, and her eyes caused more terror than anything else, because they were white as if blind, but there was no doubt that she saw perfectly... and yet was so beautiful that she felt tears sliding down her cheeks... she who had never cried since her birth.

_Don't fear me, Child. What you see of me is just an image that I can move to this place to respond to your invocation_. _From many centuries ago I dwell in the depths of the Voragine and my sweet slumber doesn't prevent me from meeting the demands of my devotees. Don't fear me, then._

Bathsheba nodded weakly and She let her go. Her slender body shone with a stronger light than she ever could reflect... and devoured the darkness of the room.

_Now_, the goddess looked around, and her beautiful face was distorted into a grimace terrible.

_Where is she?_ she hissed with that multiple voice._ I don't see my beloved Priestess. I don't see Gertrude. Where has she gone?_

Bathsheba shivered.

- She died, Mother. She was poisoned by... by my mortal mother, Giselle Boaz, who hated her.

There was a sharp hiss, as if thousands of snakes had hissed at once, and Bathsheba saw two tusks hovering from the pale lips of the goddess.

_How dare her! She will pay dearly for the murder. Gertrude was loved by me as if she were an Immortal Child. She was a faithful and good Priestess. She will pay for what she has done!_

Her angelic transparent eyes then turned towards her.

_Why did you call Me, then, Child? What do you ask from Me?_

Bathsheba swallowed and tried to keep her voice.

- I've seen over time and space, and I have acceded to knowledge that few mortals dominate today. I know Your divine wrath took my Brothers to destruction, but Your unworthy daughter hopes that You'd want to soften Your Dark Heart... for I am the only one left ... and restore the peace you snatched from my predecessors.

"I have in my power Thy Holy Immortal Scepter and the Periapt... and getting the Shards will be a matter of time. I pray Thee, Mother, to destroy them so that nothing can hurt me... and I swear by the blood I poured in Your honor to devote the rest of my immortality to serve You and do what may be Your Holy Will. "

With a shudder, she touched her forehead to the ground and spread her two hands, which touched the smooth, cold feet of the goddess.

Lilith soon spoke, and then said:

_Your blood is really beloved to me and I believe that you are my beloved Daughter, even though it was a mortal womb that bore you. The seed that gave you life belonged to one of my dearest Children, who called himself in mortal life Joachim Karel, one of my First Born, yet he betrayed me and caused my anger._

This was said with a hiss so furious that Bathsheba gasped:

- I offer my life as payment for the wrong my father committed against You.

_And I accept it_, Lilith smiled, baring her fangs, _because I see that your heart is pure and not tainted with the rot of mortals. Come to me, Child, and drink My blood, so to remove from your veins that infamous mortal blood bequeathed to you by Giselle Boaz, and make you carry only the blood of the Immortals._

Bathsheba was shaking like a leaf when she arose. Lilith came to her and encircled her waist with one arm. She was so close she felt Her fiery breath on her neck.

_You are beautiful!_ she exclaimed, overjoyed, _I never saw such beautiful Daughter! In truth you seem to be engendered in my own womb. Let's make it._

Lilith made a sharp cut with the nail in Her own neck. A trickle of bright blood ran down Her throat and slid down Her breasts, which were pressed against hers. She affectionately called on Bathsheba to apply her mouth to the wound and suck the blood that tasted like steel but was sweet as honey. She stopped shaking and gave herself in ecstasy to the honor which few of her race had experienced over the centuries. Meanwhile, Lilith pierced Bathsheba's thigh with her own nails and let the blood gushing there, although her daughter was so entranced that she felt no pain.

_Your impure blood will be entirely drained from this wound. You must drink from Me if you want to live. I will prevent this wound to close, because to Me nothing is impossible. And you will reborn into a new existence in which there you won't be anymore a hybrid half mortal, half Nephilim, but you will be pure and whole My daughter, you will be a First Born._

Bathsheba clung to her Mother and sucked Her blood with despair. She seemed to float as if her feet no longer touched the ground. The skin of the goddess was warm and soft, like Her breasts, and suddenly Her wings and wrapped and drifted both them in an embrace.

No one knew how long that intimate and sacred rite was. In the end, Lilith closed the wound in her thigh and gently pulled her back from Her neck. She gasped, her mouth dripping blood, and suddenly she slipped from Her arms and laid on the ground, bursting with fullness.

_I am extremely pleased_, She said as She closed the wound in Her neck, _I'll be happy to do what you asked. The Periapt and the Three Shards will be destroyed. The Scepter is in your hands and you'll rule with me the Legions of My Spouse. But before that, my blessed girl, you must offer to Me a special sacrifice._

- All honor and glory to You, Queen of Hell. - murmured Bathsheba, in a state of ecstasy - I'll give you whatever you ask me, even my whole soul.

Lilith reached down and stroked her body with Her wings.

_I saw that my Priestess' murderer is decided to give a cruel death to the last of the Lux Veritatis. That's not My will. That man won't meet his death here in this fortress, not under her hands._

She kept bowing until Her dull lips brushed her ear.

_I want you to take out this man from the prison and take him to my kingdom in the Voragine. I want you to sacrifice him in My altar, because I'll be pleased to show the Angels how the last of Their soldiers dies because of Me. And you will also sacrifice his lover, the Amazonian, the Dark Alchemist's murderer, for she's bringing in her womb a new Warrior of Light._

Bathsheba shuddered at that, and her eyes widened.

- She's bringing... in her womb...! – she repeated with a gasp.

_That will be my Great Sacrifice. That will demonstrate to Yahweh, and all His heavenly minions who sentenced Me to dwell in the shadow, that there is no superior to Me in Heaven, on Earth and in Hell. You'll pour into My altar the blood of father, mother and son, and Heaven shall shake at My Great Power._

She got up slowly and Her brilliant figure began to fade.

_Do this for Me, Bathsheba, Daughter of Karel, My Child, and I will destroy the cause of your grief._

Bathsheba smiled through her bloodstained lips and lost consciousness while she whispered:

- All honor and glory to You, Lady of the Beasts. Your will be done.

(…)

Maddalena spent the first days on the Island fascinated by everything she saw.

After a severe medical exam (thank God, her clients had not yet spread to her the dreaded diseases affecting her class) and after receiving an even more severe gibberish about discipline, she was given clean and new clothes and an auxiliary's uniform. She immediately found herself working in a huge fortress with bright hallways and isolated chambers where patients of all ages and both sexes suffered atrociously.

At first, Maddalena thought it was a kind of secret military hospital. Her boss, Dr. Giselle Boaz, was an attractive and certainly lovely woman transmitting a sense of confidence to her employees. Of course, Maddalena knew that something was wrong in everything... she had the impression that this woman, who reportedly commanded there like a general, was plunged into a deep depression, as reflected in the harshness with which she treated patients, nothing like her usual way with people.

A few days later, Maddalena became convinced that something was terribly wrong there. The pain of the patients was terrible and some interventions seemed cruel and unnecessary... to her, who hardly knew anything about medicine. But she developed effectively her job and primary care to patients. It did not take long to do that.

However, it was the fifth day when it became clear the horror lived in those isolated chambers. She had been anxiously looking for Kurtis, expecting to see him locked in a camera, strapped to a stretcher, but there was no sign of him.

Whom she met, however, was Radha Deli.

It was mid-afternoon, after cleaning the wounds of a poor old woman, when she heard a shrill voice screaming and ringing throughout the hall. She came running and found the guard Ralph, who was waiting serene before an open chamber, where the screams came from. Inside she heard Giselle's voice.

- Be still! Do you listen to me? This is because your friend Lara Croft needs to know where you are. And she's a very suspicious woman, you know? If we don't send a proof that you're here, she won't believe that! It would be sad, right?

She heard a scream torn followed by a burst of sobs. Maddalena leaned against the wall, dazed, while she heard Giselle murmuring:

- You can let go her, Karl. Well, Hugh, here they are. I hope they arrive fresh to its destination.

- Don't worry, Mistress. They will arrive in good condition.

- Good. Well, you know what to do.

Maddalena saw a harmless looking man going out and carrying a small cardboard box in his hands. He walked passing next to her without looking at her and she could see a drop of blood on the top's box... full of horror, the girl controlled herself and reached the armored door frame.

Inside, huddled in a corner, was a girl about fourteen years. By her features, Maddalena thought she seemed to be an Indian or Pakistani. A guard was leaning over her and tried to get the arm that she had stubbornly hidden under her jacket.

When I saw her leaning, Giselle turned towards her... and Maddalena contained a scream. The attractive doctor was dotted upside down with blood and was wielding a sharp scalpel in her hand.

- Oh, Giulia, I'm glad you're here. - sighed the blonde - Let's see if you can heal the wounds... I had to intervene her and her stubbornness has left me no choice.

Maddalena was not listening, but looking, with open mouth of pure horror, the little hand that Karl had finally succeeded in extracting from under the clothes: the girl was missing the ring finger and little finger of her left hand. Giselle had amputee them.

- Come on. - Giselle called the guard, snapping his fingers - I leave you with Ralph, Giulia, he will help you with the material.

They left when the guard accessed with the tray material and, with affectionate words, he tried to convince the girl to show him the wounded hand. Finally, Maddalena reacted and tried to heal the stumps as well as possible, after having anesthetized her locally. The girl looked at her with hardness.

- My God - dared to whisper Maddalena - this girl was perfectly healthy ... as all patients in this hospital! What's going on here?

Ralph looked at her with sarcasm.

- Come on, Giulia, the doctor is experimenting; she knows what she's doing. We must serve her and not asking questions, okay?

The girl's hand was bandaged and Ralph went away, but Maddalena remained in the door, unable to leave. The girl's dark eyes were fixed on her.

- I'm... I'm sorry - then the redhead whispered. - I didn't know... I knew nothing of what they do here. Do you understand English? I ... My name is Giulia.

She narrowed her eyes.

- Radha Deli. – she said suddenly.

Maddalena then tried to think what Giselle had said about... Lara Croft. Sure! The British explorer. Maybe ...?

- Hey, girl, by chance haven't you seen or heard of Kurtis Trent? I think he could be here in the fortress...

She shook her head and said in her poor English:

- He saved my life and my honor when I was a child, but now I can't be saved by anyone. I don't know if he will be here, but I hope not, because then he won't be fine. And I want to go...

She began to sway back and forth, tormented.

- I want to go! – she sobbed – Please, help me!

Maddalena put her hands to her mouth, desperate.

- If only I knew how...

(…)

- Are you trying to tell me, Marie, you've always known this?

Lara looked stunned at the Navajo woman, sitting quietly on the couch in the hall of Surrey Manor. Not even two hours ago Lara and Dunstan had returned from Rome, and Marie had been waiting there, moved by Justin's men. Lara barely had time to greet Winston and stifle her remorse for Radha's kidnapping.

On the table lay an open laptop, a recent acquisition of the Manor, whose screen showed an expectant Zip connected by videoconference.

- The Order has always known the existence of Lilith's dwelling place and its location - Marie replied calmly - and their relatives were also informed. It's kind of... security code.

- You mean, find out where the Devil lives in case he comes to eat you all. - the computer technician replied sarcastically.

Lara sat down, stunned.

- I should not be surprised because of a deity like Lilith exists and dwells in a physical and real place... but in fact, I didn't expected this. I would have preferred Bathsheba to remain as our greatest enemy... At least, I know a little about how to treat a Nephilim.

- Bathsheba remains as our greatest enemy. - Marie remarked, raising her index finger - Lilith has been sleeping nothing less than six hundred years, and She won't wake up unless something or someone force Her to do so.

- And what can wake that Sleeping Beauty? - asked Zip.

- Maybe Bathsheba... - Marie frowned - No, that would only summon Her spirit. It takes more than that to arise Her.

- A crane or something like that?

Lara turned towards the screen, furious.

- Zip, if you keep doing crude jokes about everything we said, you'll take off those headphones and give them to Selma or Vlad. I want serious people dealing with serious issues.

- Okay, okay, baby. Just wanted to add a touch of humor...

At that moment the bell rang, and Winston came from behind the ladder.

- I will open... – he muttered.

Lara was going to say no, but Zip was talking again and caught her attention:

- Vlad is quite pissed off with the new information. He says that when this is over, he'll go to the Vatican to chat with that intellectual cardinal, if not dead before. Ahem, the cardinal, not Vlad, of course. But... shall we assume that Lilith lives in Hell itself, with roaring fires and stuff like that and all Lux Veritatis who comes there gets fried or grilled?

Marie smiled for the first time in many days, and then she added:

- Lilith lives in the Voragine... which is the name that men of the Middle Ages gave to what we call Hell. The Voragine is neither physical nor geographical, Lara; is not a place where the lava flows and there are fires. The Voragine is the womb who gives birth to demons. They are born there, and then they spread throughout the world, and as they aren't animals as they can be elephants or dolphins, they don't procreate, they're sterile: when one dies, the Voragine creates another. Hence, the demons never run out. Hence the task of the Lux Veritatis is infinite.

- Shit. - Zip murmured.

- The Voragine has an access in the face of the Earth, which both the Cardinal and I have indicated to you, Lara, but once you cross its threshold, nothing more is known.

Lara twisted her braid with a finger.

- Now you'll tell me all unwary who venture there never returns.

Marie shook her head.

- No. I don't know of anyone who has ever gone there. The Order considered that as a stupid risk. The fight was against Eckhardt, the Cabal, the Nephilim and demons... they already had enough to think about getting into the very mouth of the wolf. Nobody has ever gone there, Lara. It's madness. It's the Voragine.

The explorer smiled.

- I've always been said the same about other places, Marie.

- You're not planning on going, are you?

- If Bathsheba forces me to do it, I will. I will not allow that monster wake.

Marie let out a sigh of dismay.

- Lara, you don't know... if you think Tenebra was frightening, it's because you have not seen the Voragine. Nor me! No one alive in this world! The Voragine is the very heart of Evil, not just the place where Lilith lurks, but also Her husband, Samael, the dark angel that you call Satan. You would never reach far beyond its threshold. You would never see the faces of the Fallen One and the Lady of the Beasts. Before that, you'll be devoured by creatures created by Her own womb.

- I'm shitting in my pants. - Zip sentenced.

- In addition - Marie continued, ignoring the boy's comment - think of my son. Think about Kurtis. He's more important than that Bathsheba and her goddamned goddess. It's him who is being killed right now as we lose time debating.

A shadow of pain crossed Lara's face and she turned so Zip couldn't see her. Yes, she was right, dammit, but she didn't know where to go... she had no clue about his whereabouts!

- Miss...

Lara looked up and found that Winston was looking at her thoughtful, sorry. In his hands he was holding a package.

- This just came for you. If you want I can open it...

- No, thank you. I will. You should go to rest.

The old man obeyed and Lara waited until his footsteps were lost in the top floor. Then she looked suspicious and opened the package while saying:

- Communicate to Vlad and Selma all the news, Zip. I'll call you as soon as we know more.

The boy nodded and closed the window immediately. Lara had already removed the wrapping of the package and found a cardboard box. Her eyes, and Marie's ones, got paralyzed by observing a small brown spot on the cover.

- Is that... blood? - Marie murmured.

Lara slid her hand along the edge of the lid. In the split of second she took to lift it, thousands of thoughts went through her weary mind at the speed of light. Suddenly she saw the content, and the cover slipped through her fingers and landed on the ground.

- Oh... my God! - Marie moaned, covering her mouth with her hands.

There were, bended as two quotation marks, two fingers nipped in the bud. They were a ring finger and a little finger, with dark skin and too short nails, which were beginning to rot. They were on a folded note splattered with blood. Lara took the note from under the fingers and handed it to Marie. She opened it and saw a typewritten message:

_THIS IS SENT BY RADHA DELI WITH GREAT AFFECTION_

_WITHIN THREE DAYS YOU MUST BE IN THE TAMESIS' SPRING AT TEN OF THE NIGHT_

_BRING THE PERIAPT SHARDS WITH YOU_

_IF NOT WE'LL KEEP SENDING THE GIRL INTO PIECES_

_UNTIL ONLY REMAINS HER HEAD_

_HAVE A NICE DAY_

- Bastards. - hissed Lara, near-drowning. The box slipped from her lap and the two little fingers rolled across the carpet.

Suddenly she felt an arcade and doubled over. She noticed Marie's hand on the shoulder.

- Let me... – she gasped - this...

- Quiet, Lara. You should calm down. That's how they work... Whose are these fingers?

She looked up.

- From... Radha. She's... the girl who was abducted. The one who was under my tutelage. God... I took her out of India to prevent her from suffering more...

She closed her eyes tightly and tried to hold back tears. Her temples were hammering.

_Don't be hypocrite, don't try to fool yourself. You're not crying of rage, you're not crying of pity for this poor creature who has just lost two fingers for good and surely live... you're crying of relief, wicked woman, you're crying because you're happy because these were Radha's fingers and not Kurtis' eyes... come on, admit it, you selfish bitch, for a moment you thought you'd find his two eyes, on this paper, so blue, lifeless looking at you..._

- Lara! Lara, breathe, woman, you're going to drown!

She breathed and the air was like a wave of fire that burned her lungs. She opened her eyes and saw Marie carefully picking and placing two fingers on the box.

She got up, feeling a wave of anger that filled her from head to toe. No, they wouldn't have pulled Kurtis' eyes out yet, but maybe they were doing to him many other horrible things, and now those bastards had the snout, the bad blood, to threaten her with sending Radha into pieces like a frozen veal, and cite her to negotiate the nonnegotiable.

- You want to play dirty, right, slut? – she hissed through clenched teeth, addressing a non-present Bathsheba - Very good. Let's play.

(…)

Kurtis closed his eyes for a moment. No one could deny that to him. Being free for a few five seconds. Getting rid of the bright focus of this torture chamber, of the reflections of the metal surfaces, of the faces around him, some sadistic, others indifferent... of the vision of his fingers, crushed in that printing press.

- Are you deaf or somewhat? - he heard that so tantalizing voice, the voice of Giselle - You know what you've done? Do you know what you did? Do you know why are you being punished?

It was always the same. One day, and another and another. The tortures changed (having had electric shocks longer would have meant his death) but they were always the same questions, the same words over and over again. If what they were doing to him wouldn't kill him, he was sure that Giselle's verbiage would.

Sitting on a chair, dressed only in tattered pants (the only piece of clothing that had been given to him since the others were shattered, after having spent four nights naked in the cell) and with his hands on a table Kurtis tried to stay calm and dignified before his horrible situation. His fingers of both hands were caught in a small printing press whose crank was driven by a cold Schäffer, who seemed to enjoy each turn of crank, which crushed a little more the space between the two leaflets.

- Well? - Giselle insisted, sitting opposite him, her cheeks reddened – Have you anything to say?

- Crush my fingers a little more or kill me - Kurtis said, turning towards Schäffer - but don't make me to stand this bitch for even a second.

While Giselle gasped for his impudence, Schäffer smiled wickedly and took another turn to the crank. There was a horrible sound of creaking bones and painful hiss of escaping air between clenched teeth Kurtis.

- You're a cheeky and rude man. - murmured Giselle - You constantly provoke me with your insolence, but despite your rudeness, nothing will advance your death. You'll stand me until the end, like it or not, and God knows this is just the beginning.

She leaned again towards him:

- As no answer, I'll answer myself: I have you fingers crushed because with them you killed a divine being. Consequences must be assumed, Lux Veritatis, and you didn't assume them when you stabbed Joachim Karel.

_Not true_, said a voice within him, _you assumed them, of course you assumed. You assumed you could die if Lara failed, if she wouldn't have discovered the True Option. But you never doubted it. You assumed that, if not killed, that pig would have taken Lara by force and commit an atrocity with her. Everything else doesn't matter. Let the witch talk. What does she know..._

Another turn of crank. Another crunch. Suddenly, and while his mind evaporated (it was him who was screaming so loud?) he became aware of what had become his fingers: mashed flesh stumps filled with splinters of bone, no larger than a piece of pipe. Through his blurred eyes, he thought he saw a dark trail distilling of the press... was it blood? And that blackish crust just fallen from there? A nail?

Suddenly, he had the delightful vision of Giselle's head exploding in pieces like a ripe watermelon... _come on, Trent, you can do it... order this to your mind and burst that bitch's head_, _what the hell she believes she is, can she reduce you to dust crushing your bones in a press, come on, burst her, at the end, just because she made you to dance on the Throne you can't give up..._

He felt swallowed by darkness and saw nothing more. Ah, blessed darkness. Who said darkness was bad? Darkness was his friend. Not seeing that horrible spotlight on the face anymore... leaving him blind with light...

And what were those voices distorted swarmed over him?

- Bring his hands out of the press. So. Okay, let's take a look...

- It's in shock, Doctor. We can't ask more from him for today.

- Call the assistant on duty. We must stop the bleeding.

And suddenly, a dark hiss around him. Marcus' mocking voice again: _Yes, my son, let yourself be killed like a lamb! Give them the victory they crave! So many years of struggling, shedding the blood of our children, our wives, so that now the last Fighter wins the crown of martyrdom letting himself to be murdered! Okay, you'll go to Heaven, you'll be among those early Christians who were as stupid as you are, but they could not fight, ask the saints of Sicily, could those poor girls prevent their sacrifice like lambs? Of course, they did not have the Don, while you do! Come, let yourself be killed, man, let them to think they have won, after so much suffering!_

He had shouted that, again and again, in the long nights of the cell, while the cold permeated his bones. He hadn't wanted to take the silk's cloak... he knew _she_ had left there and preferred to sleep naked before touching that... Damn her and the bitch that bore her... and little by little, the fever had been pulled down in his body.

It made him more vulnerable to torture, but also made him to surrender before and left alone for longer...

He heard someone mourning. A woman weeping beside him. Lara? It could not be. Lara was far, far away, thank God, she could not see him lying there on the floor, covered with burns, cuts and bruises, convulsing with fever, his hands crushed. But who wept for him in that horrible place? Who will take pity on his miserable fate?

He opened his eyes. The focus had gone, thank goodness. He could feel the cold marble floor digging into his back. He felt a pain in the neck, apart from that string of stinging burning feeling in his hands... or what was left of them. Suddenly the table, the chair and the press seemed very high, far away... had he fallen from so high? He saw neither Giselle nor Schäffer, only the woman who cried, leaning over him.

He looked closely at her and saw that it was a young girl, redhead, with curious eyes of a golden color and freckles on the nose. At first he did not recognize her, then...

- Maddalena? – he stammered, surprised because the hoarse sound of his own voice.

- Shht. Don't talk. - she murmured, wiping away tears - I'm bandaging your fingers... oh my God, your poor hands... God, God, what have they done to you, Kurtis?

He closed his eyes, too exhausted to respond, as she was sobbing and tinkering with his fingers. She hurt him so much that she wanted to grab her by the neck, but, what if his hands were reduced to smithereens?

- What are you doing here, Maddalena? – he muttered dim.

- Giulia, Kurtis. My name is Giulia. Forget that other name, it was never mine.

The door burst open and the woman jumped.

- Have you finished? - the grotesque voice heard was Schäffer's.

She rose to face the German.

- Bands will hold the bone fragments and contain the blood, but... wounds can become infected and make a gangrene. Need to...

- No need anything, big mouth. - abruptly replied the other - If they infected, we will cut off his fingers, the better. Now long, you're needed elsewhere.

Maddalena, in desperation, took the last moment to surround Kurtis with one arm and help him sit and lean against the wall. As he did, the man's burning lips brushed her ear and heard him whisper:

- Are you crazy? Go away from here, they could recognize you! Why are you here?

She could hear no more. Schäffer throw her away with a stretch and get her out of the room, pushing her down the hall. She could not contain herself:

- That man is very sick! – she yelled - What the hell you think you're doing? You are all mad, everyone! My God, this is not a hospital, is a slaughterhouse!

She didn't saw the arrival of the slap. The German's right paw slammed into her jaw and threw her against the wall. The wall kicked her on the head and collapsed on the floor, dazed.

- You're asked to shut up and collaborate. - hissed Schäffer - As I hear something like that again, I swear you will regret. The doctor needs helpers, not picky like you. Now shut the fuck up and get out of here.

Maddalena rose, touching her swollen chin, and fled down the hall. She was stumbling and sobbing, not because the pain of the jaw, which he had almost broken, but by what she had just seen.

She stood in a corner, inspiring while shaking like a leaf. Luckily, the German had not recognized her, but neither her luck would last long... nor Kurtis' forces.

She gritted her teeth, despite the pain, and walked determined to her locker. To search the documents.

Sensible or not, they would listen to her. And if not convinced ... well, she had to take the risk. She had to.

For Kurtis.


	31. Chapter 30: Save him

**Chapter 30: "Save him ..."**

Ten o'clock at night. Thames' wharf in the heart of London.

Lara waited patiently lying in an old bank, with the box containing two Shards (hers and Selma's) in her lap. After so much discussing with Marie, she had managed to convince her to stay in Surrey. She was taking no risks.

While twisting her braid absently, she saw a little shadow that moved quickly. Two large figures escorted him, and appearing to light, Lara saw a short and almost comical looking man, as funny as the two bodyguards were terrible. She looked him up and down.

- Who are you?

- "Hugh" will suffice, Miss Croft. - said the other, with a piping little voice – I work for the Cabal, as you'd probably have supposed. You won't be prudent in judging me by my size and appearance, because I assure you'll regret it.

Lara twisted her mouth and watched the two gorillas, who looked indifferent with their huge arms folded across the broad breast.

- Well? - said Hugh – Did you brought the Shards?

For answer, Lara held out the case. Hugh took it and opened it. He immediately frowned and said shrilly:

- Here are only two Shards! Have you taken me for a fool?

- Not yet. - she mocked .- Of course there are only two Shards. One was mine and the other from Selma. I know nothing of the third, as you will understand.

Hugh closed the case with a snap and hid it inside his coat.

- You must be stupid - hissed the man – Do you really think that I care? Do you really think I don't know that the third Shard is owned by Mrs. Cornel, who according to my sources is with you?

Lara's eyes darkened.

- Of course I'm not stupid. But you're so, Hugh. Do you really think I was going to give you all the Shards if you haven't given me the slightest guarantee that Radha is well? Where is she now? Is that your way of trading?

- I don't make trad...

He didn't finish the sentence. From the darkness emerged about a dozen armed men. The two thugs reacted by jumping on them but were gunned down in seconds. Hugh, terrified, tried to flee but a burly soldier grabbed him by the neck and lifted him in a twinkling.

- Well, well, Lara! – he sang - Is _this_ a Cabal's one? Boring!

- You can let him go, Justin. - she smiled.

Hugh was thrown on the floor, but he wake with a jump. Justin immediately took the Shards' case, which was returned to Lara.

- I didn't expect you make this so easy for me. - she mocked again - So many mercenaries you have, and not even one you took with you. Of course you're stupid.

- Oh, excuse me ma'am! - Hugh spat sarcastically - But no mercenary wanted to miss the honor to tear Mr. Trent's skin into strips, so that, being them so busy, I had to come with such little escort.

The smile left Lara's face and she stepped forward, furious, but before she could beat him Justin stopped her by taking her arm.

- Okay, dwarf – she gasped, controlling herself – I'm now putting conditions. If you want to retrieve the Shards, or even get the third one, you'll free both Kurtis Trent and Radha Deli and you'll forget about us forever.

Hugh laughed dryly.

- Your Kurtis has only a few hours of life left. He's just a wreck... if you want we'll return him for burial or maybe you would like to use him as fertilizer for your garden...

He didn't saw Lara's fist arriving, which hit him in the mouth and threw him spinning to the ground. The next thing he noticed were her hands gripping his throat and shaking him like a puppet.

- I'll kill you, son of a bitch...!

He breathed again when the soldier named Justin pushed Lara backwards.

Hugh choked with his own blood and began to spit teeth. Suddenly he felt himself lifted and strongly bound by Justin.

- Well, little man, you've seen that's not convenient to piss off the lady, right? Now behave properly or we'll make you a new orthodontics.

Lara, panting heavily, collapsed on the bench as the soldiers surrounded the prisoner. Others came to hide the bodies of the thugs. Stunned, she held her head, suddenly feeling dizzy.

- Okay – she finally said - since you won't do this the good way, you'll do the hard way. You won't get the Shards. If Bathsheba wants them, she must come for them. And you'll tell us now where you have Radha and Kurtis.

- Never. - Hugh said.

Another fist struck again, this time in his chin, and was not from Lara but from Justin, which looked like steel. The blow split his chin in two and a trail of blood began to flow.

- Where are they? - Lara repeated.

- Fuck you, bitch!

A third blow sank the bridge of his nose. Hugh began to howl and writhe. Justin kept hitting him until his face looked like a map. Then he knocked him on the floor and said:

- Keep pissing me off, sucker, and I'll trample your face's remains with my boot.

Hugh spat blood, but seeing the soldier's boot rising to stand over his face, he began to whine. Lara, who hadn't moved from the bank, insisted:

- Where are they?

- On the Island! - shouted the spy.

- What island?

- It has no name! It's simply the Island..! There's the hospital, the laboratory and some dungeons!

Lara shook her head. So that was their base. Another Strahov, another center like the one they had in Prague and then in Munich. The rat's nest had been rebuilt again... this time on an island. And again people were dying there... and among them was he...

A retch made her bend, but she controlled herself. She was getting worse, and she thought she knew what it was. It was _that_. She hadn't had the courage to get rid of that, she hadn't felt entitled to delete something that was not hers alone, but when the symptoms disappeared and she felt well again, she had come to believe she had imagined that, it was not real, that test was wrong, there was nothing growing or expanding within her... but there it was again the feeling of dizziness and nausea. Again.

- Lara?

The soldiers looked at her, waiting. She took a breath.

- Tell me where that island is and I'll let you go.

- I'm not goin...!

There was a _crack_, and Justin lifted his foot. This time Hugh swallowed so much blood that barely had voice to scream.

- Okay, okay... God! It's near Cyprus, in front of Cyprus' coast, to the north, three days at sea! God, let me go now!

Lara remained silent for a moment, then nodded. Justin woke him up with a stretch. Sobbing, Hugh faltered.

- Very good. You've collaborated and therefore we won't bother you anymore. - Lara said - But now you'll guide us there.

The spy looked at her, horrified, and then Lara smiled sarcastically.

- Yeah, dude... I'll give your superiors the honor to greet me in person. I have some little things to deal with them.

(…)

- Doctor...

Giselle looked up and froze. Before her was the sweet Giulia, as she used to call her, with a suspiciously swollen chin which began to acquire a slight purplish tinge. Her eyes were red from crying and she was holding in her grasp a sheaf of papers.

- God, what is that? Who hit you?

She had retired so quickly from the torture room, furious and disgusted, that she hadn't seen anything after that. Now she just wanted to be alone and rest a while in her office, but Maddalena's sight, who seemed totally disoriented, was enough to disturb her.

The redhead threw the wad of papers on her table, without further ado. Giselle took a sheet of manuscript, adjusted her glasses, read a few lines moving silently her lips, and suddenly raised her green eyes and gazed at her new assistant above her glasses.

- Giulia, what the hell is this?

- Those are manuscripts dating from the fifteenth century which talk about the Lux Veritatis and demons, about the Ne... Nephilim or something like that and many other things...

Giselle had remained stiff.

- I know... - continued Maddalena - perhaps a woman of science as you may be no interested in this, but I know for a fact that someone on this place wanted these documents... I know, I swear, I think that...

Suddenly, someone appeared behind Giselle, as if she had materialized out of pure nothingness. Maddalena screamed and jumped back, terrified.

- Giulia, this is my daughter, Bathsheba. - Giselle said calmly.

- We already know each other. – smiled the beautiful one - So _Giulia_, huh? You were right to go back to your real name. The other hit very well with your old profession, but it didn't suit you.

She slowly walked around the doctor's desk, patting her lightly on the shoulder, smiling as she walked towards Maddalena. She, in a panic, had retreated to hit the door. When trying to grab the doorknob, she noted, horrified... it was gone. There was no knob on the door.

- I should punish you for what you've done. - murmured the beautiful one - Making fun of my men, lying to my mother about your background and your name, infiltrating in our fortress and talking to the prisoners. But let's quit. Say what you intend to do with these documents.

She was so close she could smell her sweet perfume. Suddenly, Maddalena knew she was dead, so dead and dead and dead_, it's over, my dear, now they will kill you, but at least, just end what you started._

- These documents are extremely valuable. - she mumbled – I know from Daniel Monteleone that both you and your people were interested in things having to do with what's written here. I came to... to offer them in exchange for Kurtis Trent's freedom.

And then something amazing happened. That woman, that wicked witch so beautiful that was painful to stare at her, she smiled sweetly. And it was a sad and compassionate smile. Giselle, however, frowned.

- Just what I needed to hear! That son of a bitch's life's not worth a lot of useless papers! Some crap about a Goddess and things like that...!

- Be careful, mother. - gently whispered the other – Don't blaspheme. The documents are valuable and maybe worth of that man's life...

Maddalena's golden eyes grew moist. Hopeful, she went towards Bathsheba and bowed the knee, took the hem of her garment, and whispered:

- I'm only a scorned woman and all I want is to save his life... you who are good, have mercy on him. I beg you.

There was a severe snort from Giselle. Bathsheba smiled even more (it was amazing how her smile could stretch without actually seem unnatural) and said:

- I promise you Kurtis Trent won't die here. He won't be tortured anymore and soon I'll draw him from the cell. Is this enough for you, Giulia?

- Bathsheba! - Giselle jumped, shocked - What are you saying?

- Yes... - Maddalena gasped, stunned. - Yes, that's enough for me.

Bathsheba's smile fell, and then she saw a cold twinkle in her green eyes.

- Since you feel so much love for him, from now you'll occupied his cell and you'll receive in your own flesh the tortures that were reserved for him.

Giselle was speechless, shocked, while the redhead's pupils were dilated with horror.

- It will be easy to suffer, now that you know you're suffering to prevent him from further harm. - Bathsheba concluded, smiling wickedly. - This will be your punishment for your boldness, but yes, thank you for having provided such valuable documents.

Maddalena turned around and suddenly, her fingers found the knob was not before. But she couldn't open the door. A wave of darkness swallowed her and saw nothing more.

(…)

- I want you to explain me all this immediately!

After the soldiers dragged Maddalena's motionless body to the dungeons, Giselle faced her daughter, full of rage, shaking the bundle of documents in her hands.

- These papers are very old, Bathsheba! Where did that bitch get them from?

- They belonged to her former boss, Daniele Monteleone, a _mafioso_ who, in turn, had obtained them from his uncle, Cardinal Ercole Monteleone.

- Vatican's archives! Nothing less than that, Bathsheba! Why were these files in the hands of that whore?

- It was a move she made to her boss, but it doesn't matter anymore. Would you give them to me?

And she reached for the papers, but Giselle pulled the bundle far from her.

- No, I won't give you! I'm mad at you, Bathsheba! Did you know what's here? Nonsense! Myths and legends about that Order and that goddamned Lilith...

Bathsheba's eyes sparkled.

- This is the second time you blaspheme. Beware; it _mustn't_ be a third one.

- By God's sake, daughter! All this is affecting your brain!

She threw the papers on the table and took her daughter by the shoulders.

- Look, honey... try to understand me. I'm a woman of science and I don't care about these obscure myths. Gertrude had already managed to poison your mind with these fantasies and so I got rid of her... I thought you had forgotten all this crap!

Bathsheba looked at her relentlessly... and for the first time Giselle was scared. She feared her. She passed her hand across her forehead, stunned.

- What have I done to you to hate me in this way, my daughter? Did not I do everything you asked? You asked me to order the kidnapping of that Hindu child, and I ordered it! You asked me to send Hugh with her mutilated fingers together with a message to the British explorer, and I did! What have I missed?

- You don't trust me, mother. You're failing me.

Giselle slumped in the chair.

- Do you know why your father died? He died because he was dazzled, like you, by prophecies and other claptrap. He thought his only option was to have Lara Croft and have a child from her! And now you can see he was wrong. He didn't need that English bitch to create you, my daughter, Karel's daughter!

Bathsheba shivered since she was repeating the Goddess' words.

- And what about liberating that pig? - continued Giselle - Is that why you brought him to me? It sounds good to punish that insolent redhead but you know he's mine... _he's mine!_ And I won't let you to take him away.

- He no longer belongs to you, mother. He will die soon if you keep torturing him. He's sick and severely injured.

The color rose to Giselle's serene face, which suddenly contorted into a grimace of hysteria.

- I won't leave him until seeing him cut into pieces, did you hear me? I'll snatch him up the last breath of life. I don't know what happened to you, Bathsheba, but for a couple of days you've been too rebellious... remember that we're a team, okay? You risked a lot to find and capture him in Cappadocia... Don't tell me after that you think of setting him free!

- I never said anything of freeing him. - argued Bathsheba, smiling enigmatically.

Giselle sighed. She reminded her Karel himself so much with that attitude, so mysterious, so cold and at the time... so contemptuous. As if she no longer served. As if she could not enter into her plan.

- You've talked about stopping torturing him and taking him out to the cell. I'm not going to play cat and mouse with you, daughter. I'm tired of trying to decipher what you say and what you think. Whatever you say, that prisoner is mine and he must pay for what he did...

She walked up to her and took her by the shoulders again. Bathsheba always wore long flowing robes that left her soft shoulders bare, and when touched, the cold felt was as if it ran ice instead of blood in her veins.

- Sometimes, I think, Bathsheba, your father's death doesn't mind to you. I say this because you stay pretty neutral about it...

- I don't feel love or hate, as you know. These fits of rage and passion you have, which are all mortals', they are very picturesque, but they don't go with my people.

- _Your people!_ Your people who are dead! Who died because of people like that goddamned Kurtis Trent! Why don't you realize you're alone? Why don't you realize than when I grow older and die, and all us will do the same, you'll go on living forever, and you'll be alone because there's no _your people_?

For a moment, the serene expression of Bathsheba's beautiful face was replaced by one of bewilderment. Yes, she knew, but she had never seen that so... seriously.

- If that's what it must be...

Giselle smiled triumphantly.

- No. It won't be.

She stepped back a few steps and looked at her:

- Every time I see you, you gladden my soul. You're the most perfect creature on Earth. I created you... and now it's time you knew the truth.

But Bathsheba didn't need her to tell that. It was written in her mind, really bright, shining wrapped in wisps of smoke.

- No!

- My experiments are trying to create another being like you, Bathsheba. A partner. A male Nephilim to take care of you and to provide you offspring.

She recoiled. Her eyes glowed like green embers.

- You can't be serious!

- Of course I am! What did you think I did, undergoing development, tissue's reconstruction, operation of the mechanisms of pain and healing? Learning about cancer? No, daughter, I was serving the Cabals as I always have been!

She smiled and walked over to her, but Bathsheba went back, as if disgusted with her contact.

- It's true I don't have your father's wonderful genetic material anymore, but I no longer need it, since I have yours! I finally managed to isolate enough material to mix it with my own material and repeating the experiment...

- Will you get pregnant again? - Bathsheba couldn't believe her ears.

- Of course! And I'm sure that this will be a man! A brother and husband to you ...

_Incest_, then thought Bathsheba, _Cosmogonic Incest_. _What did Aunt Gertrude tell about that? The demons were born of incest..._

- ... in two years, maybe less, he'll be ready for you. You'll never be alone again and you won't be in danger. You can breed and grow again. This was Karel's dream, and Eckhardt's, and us' entire dream! And I, a humble woman who nobody took seriously, will perform it. Are not you glad?

She looked at her, dumbfounded. _Should I be happy, mother? Did you have decided to surrender me as a concubine to a creature yet to be created? Did you decide for me without consulting me?_

- Mother, you swore you would never do that. Only I can be Lilith's daughter. There won't be another. Loneliness doesn't matter. But I won't be a simple uterus to produce creatures like me.

- I swore you! Yes, I swore... but I lied. You wouldn't have let me go on... come on, Bathsheba, you must consider that...

Without deigning to keep listening, she turned and crossed the wall, but not before seizing the documents. She was so absorbed that she forgot to hide and Ralph saw her coming out through the wall. The shock prevented him from sleeping for several nights.

- Bathsheba! – she heard her mother screaming in the distance - Someday you'll thank me!

(…)

It was night at Bran's castle, and its three occupants were sleepy, but none of them felt like trying to sleep.

Zip, to whom the continuous glow of his laptop's screen had left dark circles under the eyes, absently rubbed his ear as he heard Marie's voice over the loudspeaker:

- ... we prefer not to risk the three Shards by putting them together - said the Navajo woman, whose face appeared on screen - If Lara failed in her mission and she's captured, at least they will be still missing the third one, so that even if they destroy the other two, the Nephilim would continue to run the same risk...

- ... which will be if they don't kill the poor Kurt.- sighed Zip, rubbing his eyes this time.

Marie shook her head sadly.

- Of course. Lara captured the spy sent by the Cabal and have forced him to reveal the location of their new base. They will depart within two days and I'll go with them, so for some time we can't be in touch...

- But that's suicide! - suddenly exclaimed Selma, appearing behind the hacker and scaring him to death. - If they have all their men there...!

The Navajo woman took a solemn expression.

- We have no choice, Selma. I fear that Kurtis is badly injured or maybe they have already killed him. In addition, Justin's regiment will accompany us. If we need to mount a pitched battle, we'll do so.

Zip whistled as if to say, _fantastic idea!_

- I can quit now? - then asked Marie - I'm not used to this kind of stuff and I'm getting nervous.

- Just saying to you - Selma said, lifting a finger - that Vlad has already obtained the precise coordinates for the location of Voragine's entrance. If you let me... that's another suicide.

- Do you think I don't know? - Marie sighed, exasperated - But it would be easier to convince a stone! Lara is more stubborn than me!

Selma pushed Zip aside and half sat in his chair:

- Couldn't they have put that Hell's entrance elsewhere? Please, Marie! Do you know the number of permits, visas, steps, false names and false identities and false garments need to...?

- I get the picture, Selma, but it's what you get. Both Vlad and you are good at getting thing like these. Don't fail us.

She hung up and Zip sighed.

- Finally, princess... we're alone again.

He stroked her hair flirtatiously, but Selma was not feeling like to cuddle. She got up, upset, and said:

- I'll keep company to Vlad for a while. The poor one didn't sleep last night.

Zip pouted in disgust:

- Princess, I've slept as little as Mr. Wise. Let's see who do you think has been doing telecommunications between all you these two weeks.

- I know, I know. - she said absently, kissed him on the cheek and hurried to another room.

The boy sighed, put his topless girls' screensaver, and headed to the couch, trying to rest a while.

(…)

Maddalena slowly began to regain consciousness. At first, finding herself lying in a wet, rocky ground, surrounded by a heavy, stifling atmosphere, she flew into a panic. She saw nothing. She went to her knees, touching around her, and she felt what appeared to be thick iron bars. She stepped back, stunned, and then she hit a motionless body on the floor. She cried with terror.

- Be careful, daughter. - whispered a hoarse voice at close range - If you fall over him and crush him, you'll kill him off.

- Who's there? – she cried hysterically.

- Calm down. My name is Marcus and I'm a prisoner like you, so I'm not going to hurt you. That man whom you almost crushed is my buddy in misfortunes Kurtis, who has been more "misfortuned" than me, and the only time he can rest it's when he's unconscious, so I suggest you not to piss him off anymore and lower your voice.

- Where am I?

- In the Island's dungeon. I'm sorry, my dear, but abandon all hope. Now you're among the losers.

Now that her eyes became accustomed to the darkness, she began to outline some shapes. She saw Kurtis lying on his side at her feet, motionless and silent, and through the bars in front of her, she saw a decrepit old man in rags looking at her curiously.

- How beautiful you are... what a pity, my God, such a pretty girl down here with these two unfortunate. The Lady has come before and told me what you've done. Why have you been so foolish? You were supposed to be seen and not heard, and you would continue wearing beautiful white coats and sleeping on a mattress. Now nobody can help you. You've been very, very foolish.

She sat down next to Kurtis.

- What I did, I did it for love.

- Ah! - exclaimed Marcus - That explains a lot. But love won't save you from what you're expecting.

- It will save him from suffering more. - she said, and although she appeared to be strong, her eyes were filled with tears.

He saw the old man approaching to the bars that separated them and extend his arms over Kurtis' body. He closed his eyes and shook hands as if to caress him, but his hands were actually well above the body.

- What are you doing? - she murmured, surprised.

- Trying to heal him. Now hush, I got decentralized.

_Poor man_, thought Maddalena, pity,_ he has lost his mind at all down here!_

Marcus spent some time moving his hands over Kurtis' body as he dropped a chant under his breath that reminded her of Latin. And even as she watched, fascinated, she realized that Kurtis seemed to breathe better and even the color of his skin went from gray to pinkish look. It was as if he were clearing his lungs. She moved closer to him and felt his skin sweating, sweating as if... as if he was expelling the fever of his body.

- Don't touch him! - Marcus said softly.

Then it was over. He retired her hands and sat down, exhausted, as if he'd make a great effort. Kurtis shuddered and sat up slowly. In the darkness of the dungeon, Maddalena heard his deep voice next to her:

- I told you not to waste your Don in me, old man.

- And whom am I supposed to do it, son? The jailers? Without me, the fever would have killed you.

- You're not doing me a favor in extending my life by healing me every night.

- It's the most I can do for you. I can't heal completely your wounds; just remove diseases and infections from your body. I'm not a Nephilim. I'm sorry for your hands ... they're destroyed.

He shook his head and then caught a glimpse of Maddalena, sitting against the wall, staring at him.

- What are you doing here?

- Taking your place... - she whispered. - No need to worry more. They won't hurt you anymore. They promised. It's me who will pay for you.

- What the hell does that mean? - he said, looking confused.

- They... I mean, _she_... wanted documents owned by Monteleone. I found this place and I pretended to be a medical assistant... then I saw what they did to you and offered to exchange the documents for they will leave you alone. And they will, but unfortunately, I'll pay for you.

He shook his head again, still confused, and said:

- You're wrong, Maddalena. There is no promise from them in which you can trust. I told you to leave... what have you done? Did you give them documents that can ease their way... for me? Don't you know I'm nothing? What have you done?

- Stop lecturing her. - Marcus said, sleepy - The damage is done and the girl can't go back. Don't complain much, because if I were you I would want such beautiful woman being so crazy for me.

Maddalena blushed violently and pressed closer against the wall of the cell. But Kurtis said no more. She heard him move and then noticed that he wore a soft cloth in their hands.

- Cover yourself with this cloak. If not, within two days, you'll catch a fever and Marcus won't be able to heal both us.

- You should take it...

- No, thank you. - cut him with a mocking tone.

The cloak was wide, soft and warm. Maddalena wrapped herself in it and fell asleep while thinking how wonderful it was what Marcus had made with his hands...

(…)

- Here's. - Hugh said, exhausted - That's the Island.

Lara nodded, separated from the man handcuffed to his seat and said the pilot of the plane:

- Don't come any closer. They could see us.

Justin, sitting in the passenger seat, looked at her full of concern.

- What about the other planes? - said the pilot.

- Remain high. - said Lara - I'm going to jump.

Justin unbuckled his belt and went to the fuselage's gate, where Lara was adjusting the parachute on the diver's suit she wore.

- Have I mentioned it's crazy what you're about to do?

- Not you, but Marie has done it a hundred thousand times. - Lara said, pointing over her shoulder to the Navajo woman, who guarded the captive spy with sulky expression - Come on, Justin, don't worry. If I got discovered, I'll switch on Zip's communicator and you'll come for rescue.

- Are we supposed to shoot at discretion?

Lara paused for a moment. Then she just adjusted the straps.

- Maybe there are people imprisoned in there. Don't shoot unarmed people.

- Got it. Well, girl, good luck. I hope that Kurtis worth the risk we're taking!

_Oh, yes he's worth_, thought Lara as she opened the gate and fixed her gaze on the wide sea in which she was going to sink, _of course he's worth it_.

(…)

She fell for a few meters with extended arms and legs, and at some point she let go the parachute. The water hit her hard in spite of everything, and soon she had dropped the package and was diving at full speed toward the Island, hoping that no one had seen her fall.

The closer she get, the more fascinated she felt with the remained untouched appearance of this rocky outcrop. While swimming, she kept thinking how great was the perseverance of those bastards... they had sunk them twice and both times they had been regenerated as a piece of cut liver. But it was time to finish with them... forever.

After a while and feeling already exhausted, she saw the rocks of the cliff, the foundations of the Island. She plunged further and looking up towards the surface, she saw someone who was throwing something to the water from the cliffs... something like elongated bundles wrapped in strips of cloth. She quickly deduced what it was when she saw a group of sharks pouncing on them and breaking them with their teeth... water instantly turned red and she thought she had seen an arm floating in the water.

_At least_, she thought in disgust, _these poor wretches will move away the sharks from me._

She swam with delight until the current dragged her into a kind of inner cavern. Out of the water, she spit out the nozzle of the oxygen's bottle and let it against the rock.

She groped her way through the slippery rock and lit a flare. She didn't know where she went but logic told her that if there was a vulnerable point in that particular Alcatraz, it must be this one.

She walked for a half sliding narrow tunnel by moisture, and after that time, she met with thick iron bars.

A cell?

She could not go further. To access, she would have had to blow it and she didn't want to risk being heard. Then she thought better and ventured not to burst the bars, but to call.

- Hello! - she called - Hello! Anyone can hear me? Is this a dungeon?

_But what a fool_, she told herself, _of course it's a dungeon..._

- Lara?

She would have recognized that serious voice, though broken by grief, among thousands of voices around the world.

It was Kurtis' voice.

(…)

- Kurtis! – she shouted, sticking her face in the bars, but she couldn't see anything beyond her own nose. A blast of stinking hot air struck her in the face - Where are you?

- You too, Lara! Did you have become all crazy?

His voice sounded distant, and apparently something prevented him for coming near since she still didn't see him. Suddenly, an old man's voice sounded, someone she didn't know:

- Are you another woman in love with this martyr of the Order? For then we'll be four down here...

- Lara! – it was Kurtis again - You shouldn't have come!

- Don't start with that, - she growled - I haven't come alone...

- A rescue! - jumped the old man, excited - Do you hear? They come to save us! Wake up the beautiful redhead; we have to tell her...

Lara turned away from the bars, bewildered. _Redhead?_

- How many are there?

- We're three. - gasped Kurtis - The man you hear about is Marcus, and there's also Mad... Giulia. We're in a cell complex enough away from where you are, we can hear but not see you. And we can't approach.

She nodded.

- I'll have to blow up the entr...

- Don't you dare!

- Hey, I know you enjoy playing the role of a martyr, - Marcus groaned - but I wouldn't mind to be rescued. And so this pretty girl, huh?

Kurtis sighed, frustrated.

- If you dynamite the entrance, within three minutes we'll have them all here below. Lara, it must be another way...

Suddenly they heard a metallic screech. The dungeons' door opened and at the time, a hated and feared voice rang in the dark.

- What the hell means this conference? - shouted Giacomo Sciarra.

(…)

Radha climbed to the window, holding her right hand (she had left one so swollen that she even couldn't scratch) and scanning the serene sky.

One moment ago, a matter of minutes, she would have sworn she had just saw a shadow falling from heaven and landing in the sea. Of course all this would have seemed a vision to the people of her village, but those people had not seen the sea as she saw it now and, if possible that there was a vast expanse of water so blue and so pure, sure there were shadows that fell floating from the sky and crashing into waves.

She had been on the lookout for if she saw more shadows. She wanted to confirm her theory. She waited patiently but saw nothing. When she was about to leave, disappointed, she saw something in the clouds that made her shout.

They were like birds... huge birds, stiff wings. Radha had very good eyesight and while they were away, she sensed that birds were not normal. She stared open-mouthed at things that no one had been privileged to glimpse into her village.

What Radha was seeing were British Army's planes.

- Do you like?

Letting out a shriek, she broke loose and fell, overturning the stool she was supporting in. She turned and began to tremble.

There in one corner was the beautiful lady who sometimes visited her... especially at night. Radha had a terrible fear of her, more fear than for the evil woman who had cut off her fingers, because she spent minutes staring at her in silence and smiling. And that made her felt nervous.

The worst thing is that she had no idea how the lady went there. The door was not open... never open when she went there.

Radha stood still while the Lady was coming. Her sandals made a sound soft to touch the ground. She retired with the fingertips the curtain and scanned the sky.

- Planes, Radha. – she whispered softly - Specifically, war planes. These are machines that people use to fly... mortal people who claim to enjoy a capability that nature hasn't given to them.

She dropped the curtain.

- Do you know who are on these planes, Radha?

She did not answer. She watched her in silence.

- They are friends of your beloved Lara. She has come to rescue both you and Kurtis. Now she's in cells trying to find a way to enter to release the prisoners.

She continued looking at her with that serene face in anguish which had only those who have suffered in silence for a long time.

- Yes, dear child, you were right. She has come. But I fear that she won't be lucky.

- Leave her alone!

That was a cry of anger, resentment. The girl had risen. Bathsheba looked at her:

- Oh yes, I intend to leave her alone, little one. Yes, I'll leave her really, _really alone..._

She smiled coldly while Radha glared at her.

- Do you want to go with her?

- Yes

At that same moment the door opened. No one had opened it... the bars simply retired by themselves and slowly became separated from the metal jamb... revealing the empty hallway.

Bathsheba extended her arm.

- Go. Run, little one. You may have occasion to meet and greet her...

Radha didn't think twice. Her heart and mind, still childish despite the early maturity of her body, didn't see the deception hatched and launched at full speed down the hall. When she realized in horror that she didn't know where to go in that huge building, she stopped, stunned, and then she heard again Bathsheba's sibilant voice:

- If I were you, I would not waste my time. It may be your last chance to see her... before I take her away.

The metal door slammed shut, preventing her from re-enter her room. Bathsheba was gone, and she was alone in the hallway.

Free, but not knowing where to go.

(…)

- Doctor...

Ralph looked hesitant and frightened at his boss. The rest of the staff who contributed to the experiments of Giselle was there in the boardroom: alternative medical assistants, orderlies, scullery... all filled with awe looking at her.

- Doctor. - Ralph repeated, clearing his throat - Let me tell you... this is absurd. Patients are alone in their chambers and...

- The doors are closed and locked, right? - Giselle replied dryly, raising her green eyes from the table.

- Yes, yes, but...

- Then they won't come out of there. Security systems are operative and guards are in place.

- But...

Giselle sighed, rolling her eyes blank. She rose gracefully from her chair and rested her hands on the table. A focus light from the ceiling was making her shine, she who already was so white and blonde.

- Did I have ever given you any reason to mistrust me? In what have I missed you? In what have I disappointed you?

- In nothing, Doctor. - hastened to say a doctor, who had great admiration for Giselle.

- If such confidence you place in me, who I'm human and I can be wrong, the more you must trust my daughter, who is not human and therefore does not make mistakes. If she has said that the Island will be attacked and must take refuge and stay here, so be it. Got it?

Everyone nodded, and then Giselle left the room and closed the door. With a discreet movement, she locked and keyed the security code.

In the corridor she met Schäffer, who was waiting patiently.

- Are all your men warned and their places? - she asked.

- Yes, Mistress. Except for that spitfire of Sciarra, I'm afraid he's walking through the cells.

- _She's there_. - murmured a soft voice.

Bathsheba had appeared close to them. She wore a long white dress with wide sleeves and a golden robe with hood. Giselle had never understood her flamboyance to dress, rather than get a modern women's attire to avoid suspicion, she preferred to be dressed as a lady of the feudal Middle Ages. She thought maybe she felt more comfortable with the clothes that allowed her to hide her delicate face, as Karel had always felt comfortable wearing in black.

Neither needed to ask who she meant by _"she"._

- That Italian has continued to cause problems since I took him for service. - muttered Schäffer - I don't know, Lady, what you've seen in him. Yes, he's strong and aggressive, but he endured very little discipline. He spends his free time picking fights between my men when he doesn't go down to the prison to annoy prisoners. I don't care about this last thing, but I'm not used to giving so much freedom to one of mine...

Bathsheba stopped him by raising a hand.

- Giacomo Sciarra is, like Giulia Manfredi, an essential piece in the game that I'm doing. Both are in place on the board, and where they are placed is where I want to see them. Do not doubt about me, Adolf.

He bowed respectfully.

- Never doubt yourself, Lady.

He reached out with the secret hope of touching her fingers, but she pulled her white hand back and make it disappeared into the fold of the sleeve.

- God knows I allow this because I believe in you. - muttered Giselle - But I don't understand why so many pantomime. Let's catch that insolent woman and give her an exemplary punishment before the eyes of her lover.

- That's what you would do, mother. But be patient. She has carved her own ruin, as him. She has fallen into the trap because she's clouded with human passions.

- And it was necessary to use Hugh as bait? - protested Giselle - What will we do if she kills our best spy? He's very dear to me!

Bathsheba smiled, baring her white teeth.

- Gertrude was very dear to me also, _mother_. – she hissed.

The doctor turned pale, upset, but before she could answer Schäffer said:

- Lady, when I give my men the order to intervene?

- Lara Croft will decide. - she smiled, mysterious.

(…)

- What the hell does this hubbub mean, huh? - growled the Italian – Do you want another session with the printing press, to see if you stop howling?

He went on, turning on lights, and was shocked to see Maddalena huddled on the floor and wrapped in a beautiful coat. The woman had woken up and watched him between fearful and surprised.

- What the hell! But if that's the redhead slutty! Did you came to do a few blowjobs to our two guests or somewhat?

- Get out of here. - hissed her – Fuck off!

Sciarra, in reply, came up brandishing the bar.

- Now I'll show you who rules here...

- Hey, you! - cried a voice near the cave - Why don't you face someone your own size?

The Italian paused, surprised, and as he approached, he saw Lara facing the cave through the bars.

- _Mamma mia!_ – he mocked - If this sounds like a fucking family reunion! Do you care if our friend Sciarra entertains us a little while?

- Don't think you can make me much through these bars. - Lara triggered him.

- Huh, no? Watch this slut!

Sciarra wasn't very clever and the little intelligence he had was spoiled when triggered. He fell easily into the trap and pulled out a false bar which was the only weakness of the bars' wall. He threw the bar down and, holding his metal bar said:

- Come, bitch, if you dare to come!

Lara dared. She slipped through the gap left by the bar and ducked in time to dodge the first blow. Then she threw her head against him and knocked her opponent.

Maddalena had stood and watched the scene with wide eyes. Above the metal rings of Sciarra's bar she could hear Marcus murmuring:

- Son, if you don't try now, it will be late!

- I know. - Kurtis whispered, exhausted.

_Try what?_

At that time Lara was struggling with Sciarra, trying to snatch the bar. He was stronger but she had more ability and pulled him off with a kick in the stomach.

The Italian rolled on the floor.

- That's it! - cried Marcus, enthusiastic – Beat him for me, my dear!

- Giulia, get away. - Kurtis said, standing in front of the cell's door.

- What are you going to...?

At that moment, a shriek pierced the air. Sciarra had been hit on the groin. It was enough for Lara to push him back and grab the bar.

- You're a loudmouth. – she gasped. Her lip was bleeding - I beat you once already and I have returned to win now.

Suddenly, he stood up and ran to the door.

- Don't let him raise the alarm! - Marcus shouted frantically.

Lara went behind him, but he had slipped away.

- Go after him, girl! He'll notify the others!

She nodded and disappeared down the corridor. It all had happened so quickly that she had no time to see any of the three prisoners, all the while she had been guided by their voices.

At that moment the door of the cell was violently disengaged from its hinges and crashed violently against the opposite wall. Maddalena screamed in terror.

- What was that?

- Congratulations! - shouted Marcus - Now my cell!

Kurtis nodded and after a few seconds, also Marcus' cell door went flying. Then he stumbled and fell, exhausted, as if he had trouble in breathing.

- God! - the redhead screamed again horrified – What's happening?

But nobody listened to her. The old man sped away from his cell and patted Kurtis' shoulder.

- Perfect, perfect! That was very good for how you feel right now. Although you could have done this from the beginning...

- Before there was no possibility of escape. - he gasped - Now, if as she says, Lara came with help...

Maddalena looked from one to another, without understanding anything of what they said. She just knew they had to move, because apparently her only option was no longer being tortured and die to save the man she loved. The "other" one had come to save him herself.

- Turn that damn light. - grumbled Kurtis to the old man - It's burning my eyes. And I'd rather Lara don't see me like _this_.

- If she manages to save our skin, she'll end up seeing you anyway. - Marcus obeyed and looked into the hallway. - Oh, oh. Here she comes.

Lara's shadow appeared in the gloom. Kurtis recoiled instinctively, hiding himself in the dark.

- He has escaped! – she muttered, wiping blood from her mouth - He closed a door in my very face and has blocked it. We are now at their mercy.

- You shouldn't have betrayed yourself.- Kurtis murmured.

- I wasn't willing to let him beat... – she stared at the woman beside Marcus and muttered - _Maddalena?_ What the hell...?

She just stared back at her with her serene amber eyes. Lara felt an unpleasant tingling in the neck, as if looking up from her bed sheet had found a snake. What was she doing there?

The old man cleared his throat:

- Honey, it will come the time for presentations. For one thing, you have to think how to get out of here, because since this coward will alert the entire Island, I propose to proceed by the cave's way. We can go around the Island by the rocky coast. That will give us time.

- I can't swim! - Maddalena cried, aghast.

- And I hardly remember how to swim. - Marcus scoffed - But as I can't go through walls, I'll have to gamble.

Lara sighed as if saying, _what a pair_, and said:

- I have a British Army's aircraft squadron hovering over the Island. They'd better not to threaten us.

The redhead groaned and Marcus laughed dryly.

- Don't know why I expected you would do something like that. - Kurtis said.

- That's very, very good! Friend, I really like this new friend of yours. Come on! – he started walking towards the grotto - Let's take a race to those sharks!

- Sh ... sharks? - gasped Maddalena.

Suddenly, the idea of escaping didn't seem so attractive to her.


	32. Chapter 31: The prophecy

**Chapter 31: The prophecy**

He hadn't spent two hours asleep when a strange sound woke him. Looked like someone moaning. He opened his eyes, startled, but all he saw was his open laptop and stunning girls parading one after another in the screensaver's presentation. He was closing his eyes again when he heard the groan again, louder this time.

Someone was crying in the next room.

He got up quietly, put on his pants and walked cautiously into the hall. Just as he suspected, the groans came from Selma's room. He knocked softly on the door, and then they stopped.

- Princess? Are you there?

There was a moment of silence, and then Selma's hoarse voice said:

- Go away. Leave me alone.

Zip scratched his neck.

- Unfortunately you've already woken me up. And I really don't think I can sleep with so much misery at the other side of the wall.

Having no an answer but silence, Zip opened the door and entered.

In the darkened room, the Turkish archaeologist was sitting on the floor beside the bed, hugging her knees with her face buried in them. Zip came and sat beside her, after proving she was wearing a nightgown.

- Well... let's see. – he coughed - What sad memory has promoted this particular night serenade?

Selma raised her face, wet with tears.

- You always joke with everything?

Zip shrugged.

- I'm like this and so I couldn't be otherwise. When someone says something, I need to make a joke. My life hasn't been perfect at all and making fun about all I can helps me make this world less obscure than it seems.

Selma smiled. She remained silent another moment and then she whispered:

- _Al Jazeera..._

- What? Excuse me, princess, but I still have "learning Turkish" among my pending tasks.

She laughed.

- It's not Turkish, it's Arab! Al Jazeera... Al-Jazeera. My last name.

- Hey, as the Islamic channel!

Despite the gloom, Zip saw well that she was glaring at him.

- The Islamic channel! Everyone says the same thing! Al-Jazeera is a name older than any television or media. When Muhammad delivered Allah's words to the tribes of Arabia, that name already existed, naming the clans most exalted among the Saudis.

- Ok, got it. I'm not going to screw it up again. Why did you say that?

Selma's head lay back on the knees.

- Do you know what it means in Arabic _Al-Jazeera_?

- Not yet, but I bet I soon will.

She smiled again. She was not crying anymore.

- My father was not Turkish. He was Saudi. He was born in one of the noblest and lofty families of Arabia. He wasn't from the royalty nor was linked to the television channel, but he was rich. He went to Turkey, searching for a less oppressive place. You know, in Turkey, things are different. Arabia is a beautiful haven for men and their rights, but a hell for women. Things happen... But why do I speak? You all know!

For once, Zip said nothing. Selma stood up and continued talking.

- He had grown up watching his mother and sisters in a situation bordering on slavery. They lacked nothing except freedom. Freedom to go wherever they want, freedom to marry whoever they want, freedom to have children or not, freedom to speak... none of it were allowed. Things went well, but my father, who was an exceptional man (yes, there are also exceptional men among the Muslims) deeply permeated those pictures and took them with him. There he met Nilufer... my mother, who studied archeology and was the first Turkish women's group, along with some men, who began to own their lives.

She twisted a lock of hair away.

- It was not an easy life she lived. Nor mine. She gave me the passion for archeology. I have fought so hard for this cause! And now... what do I have?

She buried his head on her knees and sobbed again.

- Hey, princess, come on ... it's not true that there's nothing left to you...

- Island.

- Excuse me?

She had raised her head again, and smiled bitterly.

- _Island_. That's what my last name mean. An island. Lost, desolate, in the ocean... nothing to see, with nothing to hold on, but water... My father was an island and I'm an island. And I'll always be alone.

The crying got worse. Zip, for once, didn't know what to say nor had a good joke at hand to alleviate the situation.

- Your father was not alone. He found Nilufer. And you...

- I had my Ahmad and they grabbed him from me. He was murdered. I found him lying near the entrance of the excavation... All my friends, dead ... what helps me being who I am now? I have nothing left. They don't even let me dig.

- You have done much. You've helped Lara, you've helped Kurt. Things would have been more difficult for them without your support. You've solved some problems with the Turkish government, is not it?

- And what do I do now, here, waiting while others fight for their beloved ones. Am I so useless and coward that I'm only able to wait?

- Absolutely not! Do you think I've forgotten the brave heroine who stood up to the manticores and chased them swinging a silver stick?

Selma laughed again. How beautiful she was when she laughed, when those eyes shone so dark, so black.

- I was scared to death then. I'm not like Lara and Kurtis. They are strong. Not me.

- Your strength is of another kind, Selma. What the hell... if we need to be scared stiff to survive, so is it. You don't look like cowardly and useless. You're helping. We're helping, you, Vlad and me. In our own way.

He moved closer to her and casually began to withdraw the damp dark tufts of hair that had stuck to her cheeks.

- When I first saw you I thought you were the loveliest creature in the world. – he admitted without demur to what he said - I know I'm a jerk and maybe you don't care about me at all, but that's what I think. You were so pretty and so sweet in your solitude. I would have killed that Italian pig for touching you.

She leaned her head on his shoulder and whispered:

- Don't remind me of that, please.

He was kissing her neck. Slowly, his dark fingers slid down both her neck and her soft black hair, in a completely different way as had done Sciarra. She shuddered.

- I'm sorry for your Ahmad, princess... but you can't waste all your life crying. Selma the Island... that island must cease to exist. Since you won't be alone anymore. You're young and beautiful, and I like you very much. No more tears, okay?

Selma muttered under her breath a few incoherent words, and suddenly felt his mouth on hers. Why feeling guilty? Weren't two years or so she had spent weeping and wailing? Was not it time to lift her head? She was young and life was still ahead. Twenty-five years! She was very young. It was terrible what the Cabal had done to her life, her love, her project, but she had to prove that they hadn't completely trampled her. While she still had the strength, she'll fight.

And she silently apologized to Ahmad, her distant Ahmad whom she shared life and home, and whose face was fading in the distance, while Zip's dark fingers began to slide under her clothes, feeling her belly and her breasts' warm skin. How long had she not made love, no one looking at her as a woman? She was as seductive as Lara, but she needed someone to love her, for what she was, for what she wanted to be.

_Forgive me, Ahmad, for what I'm going to do. I can't be like this any longer._

They made love in silence, holding their breath, for if Vlad, who was walking his insomnia by the library, heard them. And for once Zip knew himself as more than a Bronx boy, casual and much given to joking; whose only life and love were computers. With respect and almost touching devotion he approached to the Turkish' golden body, wondering what fate had brought him to that beautiful creature of velvety eyes, so lonely and so unhappy. He kissed her mouth, thick and soft, sharp tongue, while her black hair covered him like a veil.

At orgasm, it broke through Selma's eyes all the helplessness that gnawed inside her. She cried for the last time, leaning on his shoulder.

- Is it for me? - he asked, worried.

She smiled.

- No. It's for myself.

(…)

They finally slept peacefully, embraced, for almost all night. It was near dawn when he thought he heard Ivanoff talking with someone.

He rose slowly to not wake Selma, ran to put on his pants and left the hall. The voices came from the library.

- The next time you enter, brother - said Vlad - alert or knock on the door. I almost died of fright.

- My brothers used to move with stealth, and I try to learn from them - a youthful voice replied calmly.

Beside the Romanian professor was Pancratios, the young novice with blond hair and angelic appearance, but who nevertheless would be around Zip's age.

- Are you coming alone? - asked Ivanoff.

- Three brothers accompany me, waiting outside the castle.

Zip came and saluted; he rubbed his hands (it was cold and he went barefoot) and commented:

- Is there bad news from Meteora?

The novice nodded gravely.

- Our beloved abbot is dying.

A shocked silence fell over the room. Nikos Kavafis was only thirty years old, and had hardly practiced since the death of the endearing Minos.

- The demon threw by that witch, cursed be her name, is finally killing him .- continued Pancratios – I wish we could talk to him before he leaves to the Lord, but the spirit has said he won't leave him unless I deliver a message to you.

Ivanoff looked stunned. He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of the nose and whispered:

- Excuse me?

At that time entered Selma. She was wearing her nightgown and had her hair revolt. She stood in the doorway and looked expectantly at the present ones.

- The being who possessed him insisted that I should communicate something - continued the novice - Since you're the only ones I've been able to locate...

- God! - exclaimed Selma - Tell us the message!

At that time, Pancratios seemed to hesitate. He staggered, dazed, and before falling to the ground Selma and Zip held him while Vlad approached while holding a chair.

- Sorry – he mumbled - I'm exhausted, but everything is for the glory of God and the good of my brothers...

They put a glass of water on his hand and he drank it down instantly. Then he closed his eyes and leaned her head back.

- Well? - Zip said, a little nervous. - What's the message?

Pancratios rubbed his temples.

- They're the Evil One's words, cursed be Him...

- Please! - Selma insisted – It's important!

He nodded and said:

- That damned said: _Although two will go to shed their blood at the foot of the Great Mother, it will be seven transiting the Bitter Path: the Warrior and the Amazonian, the Impure and the Innocent, the Wise and the Angel, and also the Hidden. This has told the Voice in the Darkness: among the two who shed their blood, only one could be redeemed, and he'll redeemed by the will of the Goddess. But woe to them if they don't satisfy the Ineffable: none of them will again see the light of mortals._

There was silence.

- What a gloomy stuff. - Zip muttered.

- Is it a prophecy? - said Selma, who was pale as the walls.

- Sure it is! - gasped Vlad - Did not he said more? Any hints on whom...?

Selma moved towards Vlad and put a hand on his arm.

- It's clear that Kurtis is the Warrior and Lara is the Amazonian! - she said - But the others ...!

_Why she's upset?_, Zip wondered, _she won't be one of them! Anyone won't hurt her!_

- That's all .- Pancratios concluded, throwing back his hood over his head - May God forgive me for being a messenger of the Devil, but our abbot needs rites and we wish him to end his days as a man of integrity and a Christian.

- And what about his message? - Zip said, somewhat annoyed - Don't you care what could it mean?

The novice crossed himself.

- I don't know anything. Maybe it's a hoax. It's just an evil spirit. They lie and make you suffer so to give glory to the demons. Now I must go. My place is in Meteora, together with our abbot.

He left the room in silence, without looking back, leaving the other three looking stunned.

Selma fell on the couch.

- I would give the greatest credit to this prophecy. It's a warning ... or a threat. The Bitter Path... Do you have any idea about that, Vlad?

- Only the name scares me stiff. - said Zip.

Vlad was sitting on another couch and held his head in his hands. It hurt him because of so little sleep and so much thinking and thinking.

- I don't know what the Bitter Path is, Selma... I'm wise but not like that. Although I'm afraid that... - he murmured at last - I just hope that the Wise who must walk along this path wasn't me. I hope that name wouldn't describe me.

Zip was alarmed.

- What are you saying, man!

Selma leaned back on the couch and closed her eyes painfully. Vlad smiled bitterly.

- I see you do understand me, child.

- I don't understand anything! - Zip howled, and crossed her arms over her dark chest.

For a moment, only was heard in the room the heavy breathing of the professor. Through the closed shutters of the windows was breaking daylight.

- Boy - Vlad said at last - I think we will play all us in this game.

- Not all of us. - Selma stated- Only a few ones.

Zip ran his hand over his face.

- Princess, please talk clear to me_._

She smiled benevolently.

- If we may believe that being's bespeak, apparently not only Lara and Kurtis will be the ones to descend into the Voragine. - and seeing the horrified glance of the boy, she nodded - Ah, yes. Now you understand.

(…)

The waves hit the rocks violently. The sound was deafening to reverberate throughout the cave. Lara closed her eyes and leaned against the rock. She was dizzy.

Beside her, Marcus leaned on Maddalena's arm, who watched wide-eyed the agitated waves. Kurtis was behind them, also leaning on the wall. Lara couldn't see him clearly.

She felt the back pocket of her wet suit and pulled out the communicator. She activated it and said:

- Justin? Do you receive me?

After interference, she heard the soldier's distorted voice:

- I receive you, Lara. They seem to have detected our presence, despite protecting us above the clouds. However, we haven't decided to attack.

- I've already found the prisoners! You'll have to send the helicopter to descend to the grotto of the back of the Island, where we are.

After another pause, Justin said:

- It's very risky, Lara. They could swing it.

- There is no alternative. One of the prisoners is elderly and there is another who doesn't know how to swim. You're my only option.

- Okay, we'll try. Hold on.

The line went dead and then Lara turned to the others.

- A helicopter will come after us, but it can't come down so close to the cliff. We'll have to go swimming and clinging on to the rocks outside.

Maddalena paled, but said nothing. She didn't want to seem a coward.

- Well, here we go. - Marcus coughed, and subjected to the rock, began to plunge into the water.

For that man who had not seen beyond the constituency of his cell for almost two years, either end was better to remain there. He began to move, always clinging to the roughness of the wall of the cave.

Thus they began wading stuck to the outside of the cave, and when he was hardly something away, Lara turned to Kurtis and whispered softly:

- What have they done to you, Kurtis? Why don't you let me see you? Have you thought that I wouldn't notice?

- I can't go this way, Lara. - he said in reply.

The thought of that salty water seeping across the wounds and fractures of his hands, across the other wounds, scrapes and burns that he still had on his whole body, was really unbearable. That was quite painful yet and he couldn't resist getting into the water.

He noticed Lara approaching towards him and felt her warm breath. He stepped back.

- Don't get away from me! I'm not leaving without you! The others are secondary, I help them not to leave them without more, but it's you I came for!

At that time Maddalena, which was somewhat apart, cleared her throat and said:

- They have a teenager, almost a child, who said to know about you... Does the name Radha mean anything to you?

Lara turned sharply.

- Have you seen her?

- She was locked in a chamber of the upper floors.

- I'll look for her!

Kurtis shook his head:

- You can't leave them alone. I won't leave this way. I'll search for her.

- Don't do _this_ to me! - Lara lowered his voice, hissing through her teeth - For God's sake, Kurtis, don't do this...!

- For once, Lara, I will be more stubborn than you. Trust me.

- You're wounded and sick! Do you think I didn't notice this either?

- I'll go with him. - chimed solemnly Maddalena.

Lara turned slowly and looked at the woman, who had her back against the wall and watched sideways at them. She was numb with cold, as after having been torn her assistant's gown she was wearing only a wrong buttoned blouse and shorts, her hair was scrambled and her face was pale, but her glance was firm and resolute.

- I've been working here four weeks. – she continued - I know the corridors and areas, all floors and exits. I have a map of this fortress in the head. We'll go for the girl, and then we'll find another way to escape. I prefer that to drown.

Although she spoke in a tone that brooked no argument, Lara's sharp glance hit her as if it were a knife. She shuddered and looked down, repenting of having crossed a limit not know if it existed.

- I guess there's no alternative. - Lara broke in the end, making a grimace. She turned to the shadow that was Kurtis - And by God's sake, take care. I couldn't bear... to fail again.

She turned abruptly and went towards Marcus. As she passed next to Maddalena, she gave her another sidelong glance. Was it a warning ... or a threat?

(…)

- So she's down there. - said Schäffer - And you just run away.

Sciarra grimaced.

- I hastened to inform my superiors, as we're supposed to do.

The mercenary leader gestured contemptuously and said:

- For almost an hour several airplanes and a helicopter hover over the island. Your information is certainly _valuable_ but comes a little late.

His men were around. Some smiled discreetly, it was time, they thought, that the chief put in place that presumptuous.

- Are not we going to attack? - let Sciarra at close range.

- They will attack when I ordered so. - Schäffer replied dryly – As far as I know, Adolf Schäffer and _not_ Giacomo Sciarra is the head of the mercenaries.

Happy faces. Sciarra triturated them with his gaze.

- As for you, - continued the head - you're more a nuisance than a help. You'll again come down to the dungeons and you'll control the situation. I'm sending two men with you. If an elder, a tortured man and two women can defeat you, is that you're not worth at all.

This time a few laughs were heard.

- Silence! - Schäffer bellowed turning to their ranks. Then he went on - Glenn, Ratford, go with Sciarra.

The infuriated Italian went again to the aisles, while those two, muttering under their breath, followed him. If they were mocking him, they would better to be prepared.

They had spent five minutes patrolling the corridors while heading towards the area of prisons, when he thought he heard a sound of hurried footsteps, as if bare feet grinding against the ground.

Far away in the back of the hall, they saw a figure dressed in a sort of hospital gown. A patient had escaped! It was a girl of 14 years, Asian features, which stopped and stared at them aghast.

- Quick! - roared Sciarra.

The girl screamed at seeing them and turned around, starting to run with all her forces. And she ran really fast, tall and thin as she was.

- Come here, bitch!

_Radha! Come here, shameless!_

She shuddered with horror when that hated voice overlapped the cries of the mercenaries. But it couldn't be. He was very, very far away.

When she reached a door, opened it with a yank and found the stairs that had previously promoted. Blind with panic, she rushed upon them. In the third step one of her bare foot slipped on the cold marble stairs and rolled under, landing on the second floor. A liquid fire broke out at the base of her skull and felt a burning liquid ran down her chin. She opened her eyes and saw drops of blood on the floor. She had bitten her own lip when she fell.

- What the hell is this? - a stern female voice boomed.

She looked up and there was the evil woman, who looked at her with cold green eyes. The three mercenaries were square to her.

- Doctor - was quick to explain Sciarra - the leader had commanded us to patrol, and we found that this patient has escaped.

- Very good - chimed Giselle - now I'll take care of her. Keep up your way.

They nodded and went down the stairs. When the sound of their boots went away, Giselle grabbed the bewildered teen by her hair and stood her at a stretch.

- Speak, little slut! – she shouted, shaking her - Who has released you? Was it true? Sure! She has released you, dammit!

Radha moaned with a mouth full of blood... she was pulling her hair!

- I'll teach you! - the blonde hissed, dragging her upstairs - I'll teach you! And there is another one that will hear me...

She had no hope but she continued screaming. She shouted with all her forces with a pitched voice. Her screams echoed through the walls and beat the blast doors. The echoes came and went in a moment. Giselle silenced her with a slap.

(…)

- I heard someone screaming! - Maddalena said, touching Kurtis' arm.

He nodded. So he had heard. But he was more concerned about the sound of approaching boots and discussion among three voices... one of them was Sciarra's. He pressed himself against the wall and she placed by his side.

- I hate that man! - murmured the girl.

- Two of us.

Now the voices were just around the corner.

- And why the hell you have to go instead of us, huh? Did you work harder than us?

- Because I have more balls than you, _figlio di putana_.

- What did you say, motherfucker?

- Stop this shit! The chief has said we all three...

- Do you think I need a couple of jerks like you to brush for two women, one old man and another guy who can't stand on his feet?

- Oh, one of them made you run away, you asshole!

Sciarra stopped short and faced the other one. They were right on the edge of the corner.

- Are you calling me an asshole?

- Yes, I'm saying just that!

- Hey, but what happens to you two! Stop...!

Kurtis turned back to Maddalena and whispered:

- I need you to be my hands, Giulia. When I tell you, you'll run to the middle of the hallway. I saw a metal door ajar. Open it at all and hide yourself behind it, but keep it open, okay?

She nodded, and tried to control the trembling of her legs. Beside, the discussion continued, and it was deafening her.

- What happens to you is that you were the darling of the _putissima_ Italian mafia and here you're nothing, sucker! It's quite simple!

- I'm going to crush your face, fag!

- Fag your fucking father!

Sciarra threw himself on the other, and started hitting him with his fists. The other began to kick him also. They grabbed each other by the neck.

- The Cabal's pride, yes sir! - mocked the third, with a grimace of disgust while turning the corner – You can kill each other if you want ...

He didn't saw the blow arriving. Kurtis elbow hit his temple and fell to the ground.

- Now! - he cried.

The others were still fighting when Maddalena streaked next to them, disheveled, heading for the door ajar. She stopped short.

- Hey! - yelled Sciarra - But if it's the fuck...!

Something hit him in the back and the next moment he was kissing the ground. He noticed a crack in the mouth and four teeth broke off from their site.

Kurtis ran over him at the time Maddalena reached the door, opened it and stood shielded behind her. She saw clearly all that followed that moment.

The other mercenary was standing and raising the weapon to bring down a kick to Kurtis. Maddalena cried... but the blow didn't fall. He remained with the weapon held high, a few inches from Kurtis, looking at him with horror. Completely immobile.

He went back slowly, panting, while Sciarra, grunting in pain, barely rose, spitting bits of teeth in the middle of a mass of blood and saliva.

- Shoot him, asshole! - gurgled through the gums broken – Shoot him!

The other didn't move. Kurtis turned and hurried to close the door. Then he saw Maddalena's widened eyes.

- No! – she shrieked in horror, and reached her hand - Kurtis, bewar...!

He didn't turn fast enough. There was a _bang_ and then a stabbing, sharp pain, went through his collarbone area, just on the opposite side where Gunderson had sunk the Periapt Shard, two years ago.

Maddalena cried when she saw him falling, and forgetting the role entrusted to her, ran towards Kurtis, who was slipping to the ground leaving a trail of blood on the wall, grabbed him by the arms and dragged him towards the door of salvation.

Sciarra could have killed them both at the time. But it was not his style. He liked to enjoy tormenting their prey, so he had planned to have some fun with them. He got up, spitting blood, and looked with scorn the mercenary dead on the floor, and the other that when he had just hurt Kurtis, had regained his mobility as if by magic, fled screaming with terror down the hall.

The trail of blood went until the door, which closed abruptly. He reloaded the gun and came running in time to hear the thick bolt.

- Maddalena! – he sang - Pretty whore! Why don't you open the door?

He spat another tooth and hissed:

- You really like this guy, little whore! Is that he fucks better than me? It will be a shame, because I'm going to kill him anyway! Open!

She was not listening at all. She had placed Kurtis sitting against the wall and was tearing now, frantic, one sleeve of her blouse and making with it hard strips to bind the gunshot wound, which was bleeding in spurts. Kurtis opened his eyes at that time.

- God! –she heard him murmuring – I just ask something go right for once!

Sciarra fired a volley against the door. Maddalena watched with horror how the metal surface was printed with hundreds of small bumps. He fired again and this time some got a little punch.

- I don't care! - yelled the Italian - I can wait for him to bleed to death! And then you'll be mine and scream like the bitch you are!

Maddalena closed her eyes tightly. She had never felt so scared. Before, in the shadow of Monteleone, Giacomo Sciarra had been the favorite of the head, an undesirable pig who treated women worse than dogs. But she, Maddalena, had always been untouchable. She had treated the wounds and bruises of the women raped by him, hearing them sobbing and comforting them with a pat on the back. And now the world had turned upside down and that beast was a few steps from her and the man she loved was losing blood in her arms.

- Son of a bitch! – she cried, uncontrollably - I hope you die of an evil death and hell awaits you!

Apparently, Sciarra had his ear glued to the bullet holes, because then he laughed and bellowed:

- Hell is here, beautiful!

Another burst. The bright light of the hall began to filter through light beams in the darkened room.

Kurtis peered around. It was a material's room. In a weak voice, he said to the woman:

- Record the room and take whatever weapon which can serve.

She did it quickly, terrified, while Sciarra was still howling and kicking the door. When she returned, bringing a pair of knives and a syringe of morphine, so she put them in her pocket. Kurtis had been leaning against the wall and his eyes closed, as unconscious, and when she returned to play seemed to come out of torpor.

- That door over there - he whispered, pointing with a vague gesture a small door near the window - leads to an operating room. Cross it and exit by the left. It will take you to an adjacent corridor. Thereafter you will be alone. Find Radha.

Maddalena shook her head violently. She didn't even wondered how could he know that, if he had never left the area prison since he was there

- I won't let you here, hurt and at the mercy of this beast!

Kurtis' blue eyes pierced her with an aggressive expression she hadn't seen in him since Monteleone hurt Lara.

- I have no strength to argue with you. I can't go on. I won't move out of here. Now go and look for the girl. If something bad happens to her, you'll be responsible. Come on!

The tone brooked no argument. She no longer heard Sciarra's blows and howls, but a silence that was only inside her. She looked at him stunned, her eyes filled with tears, and then, furtively, as if she didn't want to, bent and kissed him on the mouth. She moved away as quickly as she reached and ran towards the door. She didn't look back. She wouldn't do.

She felt as the most despicable woman on Earth. She felt despised as never felt before. She wept as she ran.

(…)

The helicopter dropped a little more. The ladder was at hand.

Lara surrounded Marcus with one arm and led him to it.

- Come on! - she urged.

The old man grabbed the ladder and began climbing with enough agility for his age and the fact he was so stiff because of her confinement. Lara held the ladder while he was climbing.

At the top, Marcus received a lot of arms, to which he clung. The following was collapsing on the floor.

- Marcus?

He looked up, and was shocked to see the gray-haired woman.

- Marie! – he exclaimed - Marie Cornel! Is that possible?

She raised him, helped by others, and led him to the seat.

- God, Marcus! If I thought... you were all dead!

- Not everyone, Marie. - the old man began to cough - Not all of us!

- Bring a blanket! – she ordered.

One of the soldiers looked into the void and made signs to Lara. She shook her head. The noise was deafening.

No, she wouldn't rise, she was indicating. They must retract the ladder. They must leave without her. She had something to do.

- Let her do! - Marie cried when she saw the consternation of others - My son and the Hindu girl are still there! Trust her!

The ladder was retracted and the helicopter maneuvered upwards. In silence, Lara turned and returned to the grotto.

(…)

Giselle pushed Radha against the wall. Then she turned furious, and shouted to no one:

- Bathsheba! Show yourself, damn it!

Radha winced when she saw the beautiful beside her. Ignoring her hysterical mother, the Nephilim caught Radha's chin and frowned, looking at the piece of meat that hung from her bitten bloody lip. Gently, she forced her to take her face back and put two fingers in her mouth, feeling the edge of the wound. A sort of tickling ran the girl up and down and when she pulled her fingers out, her lip was intact.

- Be careful with the stairs, little one. - she whispered softly - A drop through them can kill you.

Her white fingers stroked her hair, and then also her headache vanished.

- I haven't seen you devoting so much with any of my patients! - Giselle reproached.

- Stop hurting this girl. - Bathsheba said, ignoring her – She still hasn't completed her purpose.

- Purpose! You and your purposes!

- You promised that you would trust me. You loved Karel so much, but you show little love for his daughter.

Giselle groaned and put her hand to her temples.

- Oh, stop it. Don't talk about that. You're what I love most.

- You love even more your experiments.

- You're an experiment!

- No longer. - hissed her, smiling - No longer.

Suddenly they heard a low rumble. Giselle sharpened her hearing.

- A helicopter!

- The explorer is freeing Marcus.

- Very nice! How long we must stay still, huh?

- Quiet, mother. Everything is going off without a hitch.

Then she turned back to Radha and smiled.

- Someone's coming after you.

By the time her beautiful figure vanished, Maddalena crossed the threshold of the door.

(…)

Lara ran, distressed, down the aisles. She left the prison area and went upstairs. She traveled around with her keen eye. White and gray. Plaster and metal. Finally she found a bloodstained aisle and a dead mercenary on the floor. She spent hurry, looking at the blood stains, which came to a door riddled with bullets. She hit it, kicked it hard. The hinges, hit by shrapnel, let out a squeal before giving up. The door fell with a crash.

The light illuminated the room and then she saw the man lying against the wall.

- Kurtis! – she shouted and ran to kneel beside him. The light fell on him and now she saw him clearly. - God, what have they done to you!

He was dressed only in tattered pants, so she saw clearly the straps' marks on his wrists, the burns ranging from top to bottom, meandering on the white skin, long and sharp burns, made with a blowtorch. Cuts and wounds all over his body... burnt marks from the electrodes. And the hands...

- They will pay for all this! - Lara gasped in pain, surrounding his shoulders – I swear they will pay! God, Kurtis... your hands!

The band made by Maddalena was soaked with blood. Lara took it off smoothly from the gunshot wound. He shuddered and opened his eyes.

- Lara... – he muttered, looking at her as if it was the first time he saw her, as if he couldn't believe she was there.

She was crying. Tears ran along her smooth cheeks, flowing from her hazel eyes, mixing with the seawater which still moistened her face and her braided hair. She wept with rage as her fingers probed the wound.

- Hold on a bit more. – she murmured. When drying her tears violently, her hand, soaked with his blood, made her cheek turn in red. - Am I hurting you?

- The first time you ask that. - he whispered with a weak smile.

Finally she found the bullet and removed it. She groped her backpack and pulled out some bands, and began to curl them tightly around his shoulder and collarbone. By touching him she noticed that his skin was covered with a film of cold sweat, but he was burning. He was burning with fever and shivering.

- You're very ill. - Lara said, and cupped his face with both hands. - I took too long. I should have come before.

- You came. That's enough, _milady_.

Upon hearing that title which he had changed into a loving nickname, her eyes filled again with tears. She wiped them with another slap as he said:

- That damned Italian attacked us. It was a while ago. I fear that he wanted Giulia. I think I've sent her to her death.

- Forget it. First I'll get you out of here. Then I'll think about her and Radha. - her eyes wandered around and came back to him - You'll have to make one last effort, my love.

He shuddered.

- Give me a moment.

She sat next to him and hugged him. He was shaking. She kissed him and ran her fingers through his damp hair.

Oh, yes, they would pay for that. She will be responsible for making them pay, one by one.

- You can start whenever you want. - a soft voice hissed.

Lara looked up. Bathsheba's slender figure was watching them from the other side of the room.

(…)

Giselle turned sharply.

- You! – she snapped, looking at Maddalena.

- Just come to take Radha with me. - she said - Let her go.

The doctor's white face twitched.

- Yeah, so what? Who do you think you are, damn bitch?

She advanced towards her with clenched fists.

- I won't allow you to wander through the fortress as if it were yours! This is my life, my project! Because you blew it once, you'll never do it again!

The redhead had no idea what this woman spoke, but she was obviously angry and alienated. As she approached, pulled out a knife from her pants and held it up before her eyes.

Giselle stopped, threw her head back and roared with laughter:

- Ha, ha, ha! You come to me with that! Yes, she did, she also had one... and then she broke Friedrich's neck!

_God_, thought Maddalena, terrified, _she has lost her mind!_

Giselle came forward almost to the tip of the scalpel and hissed:

- Come on, stab me, bitch! Slut! You have no courage for that!

Maddalena's second of indecision was fatal. In those two years the hatred that gnawed inside Giselle had hardened, and she knew how to use strategies that have never before attempted. At the risk of being stabbed, she jumped towards Maddalena and hit her on one side of her head, sending her against the wall. In a second she was over her and snatched the knife from her hand, which fell to the ground. She grabbed her beautiful coppery hair and twisted it, making her scream in pain, while her other hand squeezed her throat.

But Maddalena was bigger and stronger than her and sent her rolling on the floor with a push.

- Radha! – she shouted - Come on, get out of here!

Giselle stretched a leg and hit Maddalena's legs, who stumbled and fell to the ground. They began to fight back each other.

Radha watched them, terrified, not knowing what to do. Her eyes fell on the knife that was on the ground and picked it up with faltering hands, but not daring to use it. Suddenly, she saw the two women stopping squirming, and Maddalena jumped up. Giselle tried to get up, trembling, and watched with horror her left thigh.

From it protruded a tiny morphine syringe, completely injected. Maddalena had sunk it into her flesh while struggling.

With convulsive hand she snatched and tossed it aside. She tried to rise, but rolled over and lay face down. She raised her arm again and tried to grab Maddalena's ankle, but then she experienced a spasm and remained completely motionless.

The redhead said nothing. She took Radha by her arm and quickly took her away.

(…)

Lara jumped up and protected Kurtis with her body. She took the pistol from its holster and pointed it directly to Bathsheba's forehead.

- That will be useless. - she said calmly.

- It will be useful to give me the pleasure of seeing your brains jumping. - Lara said - Even for a moment.

She smiled. God, her seductive, sweet and sentenced smile! How she wanted to erase it from her face!

- You'll pay for what you've done to him. - Lara continued.

- None of his injuries and illness was caused by me.

- I really don't care how innocent you think you are.

- Ah, but think about it...! What will you do when you run out of bullets? I can't die.

She moved a little more. She was wonderful in that soft and white dress.

- You both are following my path like you already followed my father's. Everything is ready. Now you must come with me. The Great Goddess awaits you. The Voragine is waiting for you.

- Your father's path turned against him, and we defeated him. With you, it will be the same.

- Optimism makes you reckless.

- Come here! - Lara hissed, raising here weapon - Come to get me...!

When Bathsheba raised her arms, she fired. The bullet hit her in the forehead, opening a hole from which it came out a silver jet, as if she had broken a source of liquid silver. She stumbled and let out a cry of rage and pain. And then she heard a strange sucking sound and the bullet came out, rolled down her face and fell to the ground making a chiming sound. The wound was closed shortly after.

- Stupid! - Bathsheba gasped - Stupid!

This last word was mixed with a sentence of intelligible words. At the moment it was as if something hit Lara and made her fell on her knees. The gun slipped from her hand. Bathsheba's fingers probed her throat and nailed it.

- Listen to this carefully! – she said in her ear - For the power that the Divine Blood has given me, I send you to...!

She didn't finish the ritual phrase which would have led Lara to the Voragine. She stopped abruptly and looked up, stunned. Kurtis had stood up and held her by the arm.

- Let her go. - he ordered.

Bathsheba sat up, falling back, and got rid of him.

- Don't touch me! – she gasped - _Never_ put your hand on me!

But he was not listening. He jumped towards her and grabbed her again, this time by the shoulders. Bathsheba started screaming.

Lara noticed that something unusual was happening. She felt a heat wave and hurried back. Kurtis was wrapped in a bright orange glow and Bathsheba glowed with a clear and silver light.

Bathseba writhed and screamed, but Lara didn't understand what she said, because she was screaming in Nephilim language. But apparently those sentences made to hurt Kurtis bounced against him and flew off without damaging him.

- Let me go! - she cried, her eyes wide with horror - Take your hands away from me!

She tried to get loose. She writhed, tormented, as if his hands were burning her. But who was suffering atrociously was Kurtis himself, since he was holding her with his injured hands. The pain was almost insane but he didn't let her go. He shook her hard while she screamed.

- No! No! Let me go, damn you! That's forbidden, forbidden! You can't ... you can't...!

Lara finally began to understand. Her light, cool and soft, began to be absorbed by his, hot and intense. Little by little, she stopped struggling, abandoned, trembling, and tears of frustration and helplessness began to ply her diaphanous cheeks. Kurtis didn't relax the pressure. His hands slipped from her shoulders to her wrists, and grab her mercilessly.

His hands. They were no longer a mass of torn flesh and broken bones. Through the bandage that had administered Maddalena to him, Lara clearly saw how they were returning to be intact, whole, and strong. When his light waned (hers had already died) she could clearly see his skin; so she noted, amazed, how his brands and torture wounds were gone. Even his old scars were gone. The shoulder tattoo was now intact and bright.

With a final shake, he let her go and pushed her back. She tripped and fell. The edge of her dress rose and discovered her long and beautiful legs. She crawled to the wall and leaned over it as if to push it and pull it down to get away from there.

- You... monster! – she gasped, her face wet. She touched her cheeks, stunned, and embraced herself in the midst of uncontrollable tremors - Spawn! You've done what can't be done! You have violated the most sacred rules! Ignoble pig...!

A sob broke her cries and she hid her face in her shoulder while her dark hair covered her like a veil. Lara was stunned.

- I don't care about your rules. You've had your well-deserved. - Kurtis said implacable. As he got a step towards her, Bathsheba huddled against the wall.

- Get out! Get away! – she extended the arm like a virgin who would drive off a rapist - You've violated a law feared and respected by angels and demons, how dare you, miserable, to force me? Lilith's curse fall on you and those you love! From now I tell you that there will be no mercy for you! I will leave you now, but when you travel across the Bitter Path, woe to all of you! Woe to you over all, for you're going to bleed until the last drop of your dirty blood!

With one last gasp of pain, she vanished like smoke in the wind.

Lara went towards Kurtis. She touched his skin, she took his fingers, put her hand on his forehead. He was intact, healthy, restored.

- Come on. - he said- We have to find another way to escape.

- I don't understand anything, Kurtis. - she said - And you know I hate not understanding anything.

- I'll explain later. Come on.

(…)

Maddalena was walking hurriedly down the hall, towards the place where she had left Kurtis. Her heart was in a fist. Radha was not far behind her.

She stopped short when she saw a tall and chunky man at the end of the hallway.

- Look who's coming! - sang Sciarra – Were you looking for me, gorgeous?

A burst of shrapnel rained down around them. Radha shrieked in horror. Flipping her, Maddalena put her in the first room she saw. Unfortunately for her, the cleaning room and the door was made of wood and glass. Terrified, they huddled together, clinging tightly to each other, feeling the approaching footsteps.

With recoil, Sciarra broke the glass, and reached his hairy paw groping for the doorknob. Suddenly inspired, Radha jumped and sank with all her strength the knife she still had in his hand. There was a deafening roar and the hand pierced from side to side by the blade disappeared, leaving all spattered in blood.

Sciarra tore the knife with another howl and, mad with rage, attacked the door, which yielded to his weight. He entered as a waterspout and grabbed Radha by the neck, raised her as if she was a doll and threw her against the shelf. There was a crash and the girl fell to the ground, unconscious.

The Italian didn't see her falling. He was addressed to Maddalena, who stuck her back against the wall, sobbing and trembling violently.

- Giacomo... – she groaned - Giacomo, just ... enough...

His hand gripped her throat and her voice broke.

- Ah! - he hissed, showing her toothless gums, black and full of blood clots - Now you want me to leave you, huh, bitch? Whore! You should have thought before pissing me off!

Maddalena no longer had any weapons. She had dropped them after the fight with Giselle. Terrified, she felt Sciarra's breath falling on her in the darkened room.

- I dream about you from the first day I saw you... God, you shine like a lighthouse in the fog. – he panted feverishly – Among all Monteleone's whores, no one was like you, even they must be the most beautiful women he could afford. Ah, when I saw you, tall, beautiful, with that hair of fire... looking at me with those eyes... fuck, you must be mine, I thought. But it could not be! – he gave a dry laugh – Not you, since you were property of the boss!

He subjected her so hard from the neck she dared not move. Sciarra's other hand dropped the gun and began to grope her breasts under her blouse.

- And not being allowed to have you! – he continued, sticking closer to her, she noticed the erection under the cloth of his trousers - You were of the boss, no one would touch you, how many times I was told that. I couldn't believe it. The others were not enough for me. I had them when I wanted and as I wanted. One, two, three... I saw them below me and all of them had your face. It drove me crazy. I beat them, mistreated them, because they were not you, and I wanted you. You and only you!

With one tug he tore her blouse up and down, blowing up the buttons. He snatched it feverishly, and after two pulls, the bra gave way with a click. She had never felt such fear and hatred in her life.

- I'm not evil ... – she gasped in his ear as his fingers went down her breasts, squeezing them until the pain – They say I was a brute. That I liked to beat women. It's not true. If I had had you I wouldn't have made anyone suffer. I lived day and night, haunted by your vision. And you were so haughty, so dismissive... you hated me. You still hate me. And you know I'm more attractive than Monteleone. Damn, when you wanted you went to bed with anyone you crave! Why not me? So horrible was I?

His bloodstained mouth fell into her breasts. She couldn't move. If she moved, he squeezed her throat harder. She could hardly breathe. She closed her eyes. Her beating heart was like coming out of her chest. He had risen again. Now he sharply unbuttoned her trousers.

_Oh, God. No, no, no. __Protect me_, she begged silently.

- And when I finally had you, it wasn't satisfactory .- he continued, his voice growing hoarse – I hit you again and again. I wanted to erase that sneer from your face. I raped you, but it wasn't enough. You became a defenseless straw bag that brought me nothing. Your friend, the beautiful Chinese, really helped me with her sobs and moans. You didn't. You bit your tongue and let me do. How well the whores act, huh? When you dislike the client, you open your legs and you look the other way. But this time you won't look somewhere else! This time you'll give me what I want!

With one tug he separated her from the wall and threw her down. She screamed when her elbow hit the ground. The impact left her breathless. Then he brutally turned her back and lay on her.

- This could have been different...- hissed him - if you had wanted to...

Maddalena turned her head to one side. Through the trail of blood that moistened her eyelids, she saw that Radha began to move slowly.

- Giacomo... – he sobbed – Not before her...

- Bah! There were younger than her in your harem! What are you pretending!

Then it came the hideous pang that tore the belly as a razor. She screamed in pain and contracted. The cold marble floor froze her back, and all of her was soaked in sweat.

- Now you'll see! - he gasped – It's the last time you turn your face!

He reached out and grabbed her jaw, forcing her to look at him while he raped her. He fumbled with his fingers her face and hair, marveling at the softness of the skin of her eyelids, and the tingling caress of her curls. So he had dreamed her, night after night, trembling, terrified, her face contorted with hate and pain.

With a final lunge, he unburdened himself completely and fell on her with all his weight. Then he stood up and left her with the same suddenness with which he had penetrated her.

Maddalena was so sore she could not move. Sideways she saw blood spattered on her thighs and felt the vital fluid flowing within her, dripping to the floor.

Sciarra was incorporated. Now he was looking at her askance, as is she was an incredible view and wonderful.

- Are you already happy, pig? – he heard her murmuring, half swoon.

- I'll be better when I catch the bastard you like and cut his balls. Then I'll fuck you again while he bleeds for him to see everything.

She made a face. Yeah, that's more he could really do. He may rape her, kill her, yes, but he won't go beyond. He was helpless, powerless to retaliate beyond that.

- Do you still laugh, whore? Are you still laughing?

She took a deep breath and pick up some strength.

- Yeah, I laugh. You're a sad and odious character. I don't know what kind of life you've had to become such a monster, but you're worthless and I hate you. The most you can do with a woman is to rape and beat her. The most you can do with a man is insulting and arguing with him. You don't know how to love and don't know anything about love. You're disgusting. You've had my body, but you'll never have me.

The blow turned her face and a click was heard when her cheek hit the ground.

- Bitch! What do you know about love, huh? You sell yourself to the highest bidder...!

- I'd rather be a tramp sold to the highest bidder than a hideous monster whom even the most despicable of the whores wouldn't sell to.

Letting out a roar of rage, Sciarra grabbed her neck with both hands and began to squeeze her as he banged her head against the floor. A cluster of stars began to dance before her eyes and she knew he was going to kill her. He may choke her or maybe he'll burst her skull on the ground. Whatever it was, it would be the end. She'll lose sight of him.

_Help me_, she prayed in silence to the three martyrs of Sicily, _make this over already. Please._

Suddenly, the beating stopped. The hands were loosened around her throat and, with a gasp of pain, she sniffed the air, which came dry and burning in her tormented lungs. When dissipated the fog that clouded her eyes, Maddalena saw again Sciarra's face, reflecting a deep terror. His eyes were bulged and his mouth ajar.

Making a gurgling noise, he raised his hands to his throat. Horrified, Maddalena saw that from it protruded the sharp tip of a scalpel.

The Italian staggered and collapsed on her. Then he rolled and fell to her side. His body was experiencing horrible convulsions. And suddenly he froze. He extended his large hand into a claw to Maddalena, trying to touch her one last time... and fell on the marble. A gush of blood flowed from his lips and stood motionless, with staring eyes at the redhead.

Maddalena looked up and saw Radha standing, serene, with a strong and terrible expression on her sweet face. Her right hand was splattered with blood.

- It was you... You've killed him...

She leaned over, looked grim her tainted thighs and then, passing an arm around her shoulders, she helped her to sit up. A new lash of pain shook Maddalena.

- Radha... – she whispered - You saved me...

The girl's dark eyes stared at her. Then, gesturing angrily, she said in her halting English:

- Because of a man like this one my life has been hell.

Forgetting all restraint, Maddalena began to mourn.


	33. Chapter 32: Evasion

**Chapter 32: Evasion**

Wrapped in silence, Samael the Fallen One looked at the empty darkness.

He was the oldest entity on the planet. So many millennia ago He had followed the path from the heights to the depths. It was a hard, eternal fall. For every inch that tore Him from the place of angels and took Him into the void, a part of Him was torn, disintegrated.

However, He didn't die. He didn't disappear. He was an angel, and angels don't die.

But with how vivid clarity He recalled the time He was the most beautiful, brightest among all the angels. Also, the cleverest. And yes, He was still beautiful. The defeat hadn't changed Him into a horrible monster with goat legs and twisted horns imagined by Christians.

Satan. So they called him. Satan. To Him that name meant nothing, as the other names He has received, a never-ending long list ... Beelzebub, Lucifer...

He was Samael, the Shining One. And even if He had taken so long dwelling in darkness, He was still beautiful; He was still full of light. Samael.

Ah, the Day of the Fall, what pain! But it all began for Her.

He stretched His arms towards Her, who slept for centuries, and touched Her breasts, Her soft eyes, the sweet curve of Her lips, Her albino hair. She slept, and He had watched Her since then.

_Lilith, Lilith. My beloved, my wife, my sin. For you I faced the Almighty. For you, we all are in darkness. But I wouldn't have gone anywhere else._

Ah, how He remembered Her, when the Lord had presented Her to the world! The first mortal woman. She had seemed frail to them, so white, so thin, with those golden locks. She opened Her eyes, She had looked to Him who always stood by the Almighty. And how beautiful She was! Something like Her must die as well?

And then what had said Michael the Archangel: _She's intended to Adam. She will be his wife, to generate the offspring of mortals._

To Adam! That dull, that brute of Adam! Just imagine Her at the mercy of that ape gone Him mad. So delicate, so sweet. Lilith. He fell in love with that beautiful creature who wasn't intended to Him. He sinned, yes, he sinned. Contradicting the Almighty was sinful.

Yes, they said that the Fall had been caused by treason. For not respecting the Son, whom the Yahweh wanted to allocate for the mortal's redemption. What did they know. The Fall had been for Lilith, solely and exclusively for Lilith.

Adam the beast had failed to treat as deserved the beautiful gift received. He humbled her, as animals possess their females. In theory, that was right. They should have progeny. But she, who had seen Samael and knew the thoughts of angels, and had been created much smarter than Adam, fled from him. She can't stand him. The Almighty was angry and threatened to kill Her children if She didn't return with the beast. And She said no.

Ah, how He remembered Her... He had seen her by the Red Sea, kneeling in the sand, screaming, arms outstretched, head thrown back, foam rubbing Her belly fertilized for the umpteenth time. Screaming with all Her forces.

_Hey, Yahweh, kill them. Kill them one by one, if you wish. Kill this one I still have in my womb. But I'll never back to him._

The golden hair in the wind. The dark eyes brimming with tears. At that moment, Samael did what was forbidden. He went down with Her and appeared to Her. She looked back at Him and stopped screaming.

_If you come to me, I will make you happier than the angels of Eden_, He had said. The beauty of the angel was so dazzling that She covered Her eyes.

_Have you come from Him? Will I be given back to Adam?_

_No_, he said. She would never return. He was captivated by Her purity, Her beauty. The astute, intelligent Lilith.

_For you I condemned myself to the darkness. My love, my love._

A new wife, more humble, more short of lights, was given to Adam the beast. Eva. She meekly complied with what was expected of her, but she would also betray him, because that's what Adam deserved. Eva was born from Adam himself, and it was easier for her submitting to him.

But Lilith... Lilith... She should end. She was too rebellious, too vindictive. But even Yahweh didn't dare to harm Her. She was so perfect!

He saved Her. Yes, Samael saved Her. He did what it could not be done. He gave Her His blood. He opened His neck, letting his spitirual sap flow and Lilith pressed Her lips on Him. Oh, that ecstasy. _My beloved, my beautiful_. Soon She changed and transformed. She became immortal, and Her beauty was multiplied by infinity. It hurt to see Her, so beautiful and pure She was.

And then Yahweh's anger. The Angels' Council.

_Samael, Samael! Who but Me will can give eternal life? Who but Me had to decide the fate of the mortal Lilith? By giving her your immortal blood, you have created an impure being, a being who doesn't have My blessing. Whether she must be destroyed!_

Lilith was not submitted. When they tried to attack Her, She rose into the air. _You won't touch me_, She said. _No more slavery. Hey, brother, husband Samael, come with Me. The time has come._

Two sides. The angels, divided. Many joined their cause. The battle had lasted for millennia. And finally, the defeat. The Almighty was too sheltered by His Ones.

And Michael, the Archangel, who was a friend and colleague, crushed His head with the heel of his foot.

_Retract, Samael, let that infamous rush to the abyss. You can still be redeemed. Yahweh will forgive you, for you are one of His most beloved._

But Samael had closed His eyes.

_She's my wife, my beloved. Wherever she goes, I'll go._

Then came the coup and the Fall. Thousands fell with Him. They were banished from Eden, sinking into the abyss. When He could raise His essence from dust, those beautiful angels that had supported Him had become horrible bloodthirsty monstrosities, which spread around the world to torment mortals. Torn, Samael spread His arms to find Lilith.

Both remained beautiful and pure. That would be their punishment. To dwell forever in the darkness, surrounded by the spawns they themselves had created.

But love was everything. He spawned a race of beings so high and as beautiful as them. Yes, they lived in the darkness, but Samael never regretted having turned the face to the Almighty.

From His silent mansion, the now called Evil by generations spent His eternity observing in silence the humans who were born and died. How much He loved them. They reminded Him of the mortal Lilith, fragile and delicate. Yes, they hated Him, feared Him, because they didn't know Him, but He loved them. They were perfect in their imperfection, beautiful in their ugliness. He loved them almost as much as demons hated them, torn by their deformation.

He lay upon Her and kissed Her. Her eyelids quivered, her celestial body shuddered. But She went to sleep. She slept since Her children terribly betrayed Her, they disappointed Her. Samael had watched Her sleep in silence. There was no place to haste, to impatience. They had all eternity before and She was His.

Under His fingers, He noticed the beautiful heart beating softly. The dark heart began to fill itself with energy. The time of Her awakening was near.

_What troubles you, my darling?_

Samael received only silence in reply, as He turned His vision into the mortal world.

He loved that silence.

(…)

It was then when Schäffer saw everything clearly. Or at least he intuited that. It was useless to wait... he had full faith in his Lady, but he would have to be blind not to notice that something was escaping from the situation that She believed She controlled.

Surely that was not in Bathsheba's plans that this happened.

- Incorporate her, dammit! – he yelled – Is she breathing?

They found Giselle's body, face down, stiff as a log of wood. The two assistants, whom he had called, fearful, lifted her to make her lay on the stretcher, while a doctor examined her frowning.

- She has been given morphine. - he said – God, it could have killed her...

- Will she survive? – the mercenary said impatiently.

- Yes, of course.

- Good. Take care of her.

He adjusted his glove and went out. He walked quickly down the aisle, followed by two of his men, while he was giving orders:

- Spread 3 and 4 brigades on the beach. The rest must come with me. I've had enough aircrafts flying over the Island. If they want war, they should not wait any longer.

- So...?

- Prepare the missiles.

(…)

Lara and Kurtis stopped at the halfway. They heard voices and shouts down the hall, and the sound of boots pounding the ground.

- Schäffer has spread his men. - Lara said, and picked up the communicator - Justin! Take care up there, I think they will attack!

- Received. - said the soldier's diffuse voice – We'll face them.

Kurtis had advanced a few steps, holding the Boran in his hand, which Lara had returned to him. A few feet away from him, they saw Maddalena and Radha around the corner. Both were bruised, the redhead was very pale, but she seemed serene. They came at full speed towards them.

- Thank God! - she cried, and then looked shocked at Kurtis, who had not a single mark.

Radha ran towards Lara and hugged her instinctively, as she spoke hurriedly in her language, explaining what had happened. She still was talking when suddenly, the lights were switched off. They died down, one by one, abruptly, and left them in the fading darkness.

- They're not willing to let us go. - Lara said, looking for a flashlight.

- We'll see. - grunted Kurtis.

They sharpened their hearing. They could heard them approaching from the lower floors.

- No possibility of leaving below. - Lara added - The dungeons, the floors below, will be monitored. The only option...

- ... is going up .- concluded Maddalena. Her voice was faint – There's an empty heliport on the rooftop. Did you have a helicopter, didn't you?

Then they heard Kurtis' voice in the darkness:

- They may not go down. They will shoot them.

- We must try, Kurtis.

- They're coming! - shouted Radha, who was leaning over the stairs.

They ran in search of the ascending stairs.

(…)

Sobbing with pain, anger, humiliation, Bathsheba fell on the sacred circle.

This time, the Great Goddess came to her without being invoked. It was enough to hear Her daughter's crying to become corporeal and material in front of her.

She leaned forward and pressed her head against Her breasts as She slid Her thin fingers through her hair with Her arms around her. She was faint, almost unconscious.

She put her face back and drank the silver tears that ran down her cheeks. The cry was subsiding. Being held by Lilith was the source of all comfort. Gradually, she felt her strength restored.

_My Daughter, you, my beloved... how he could done such damage to you?_

She could feel the deep hurt inside her. She, who was strong and eternal and could sweep life with one stroke, She could see the damage received. She saw it as a bleeding ulcer in her. At that time, she was weaker than ever. Her life wasn't in danger, since only the Periapt Shard could kill her, but a mortal child had more forces than her at that time.

Finally, Bathsheba could speak.

- He did what is forbidden, Mother. He touched me... he grabbed me by force. I tried to go back, but I couldn't. He started to absorb my energy... he seized my power by force! He cured himself stealing my forces...

A sob cut her words. Lilith's lips were kissing her tears. She felt confused and angry; she didn't understand why her eyes were dropping water...

_Because your body still has the true essence from when it was mortal. Ah, I love mortals' tears. I shed so many of them when I was a woman given to a visceral gross. Don't be ashamed of your weakness, Daughter, you will be avenged._

- And how do I do? It's enough for him to hold my wrists to begin to absorb my strength! Who gave this man so much power?

_He concentrates the gifts and the magic of his Order. He doesn't know, but he's stronger than all his predecessors. Moreover, my Daughter, he doesn't know what has he done or how he did that. I assure you that his intention was only to protect the mortal woman, to have her away from you. The rest has arisen only because there are very powerful forces that keep this man. Therefore he should be kept until being before me. Be patient, My Daughter, you'll recover from the attack._

The pain was subsiding. She still felt weak, but she opened her eyes to met Lilith's inscrutable gaze. She shivered as Her lips slid to her mouth.

- I've failed. My plan hasn't been carried out.

_Not at all. Do you think my eyes can't see anything? I sleep but I'm alert. It was for good that he committed such a sacrilege against you. Until now he was too pure in the eyes of the immortals. My Husband couldn't have been able to blame him... Ah, He and His love for mortals! But who forces an angel commits sin, and in that we'll be like the Most High: we won't forgive._

- What should I do for now, Mother?

_Sleep, recover yourself in my arms. Let everything take its course. When you awake, you will be strengthened and prepared. The time will come, Bathsheba, Daughter of Karel. Sleep._

Floating in a cold mist, the beautiful left herself between the goddess' white arms.

(…)

What of the missiles was no joke. Just the planes were watched among into the clouds, there was a tremendous explosion. The missile struck the tail of a plane that fell spinning around to the sea and exploded shortly before hitting the waves.

- Bastards! - Justin screamed at the sight.

He saw the soldiers deployed along the beach. Very well.

He ordered to shoot at those. Again another missile struck another aircraft. A new wave of fire. That would be difficult.

- Lara! – he shouted by the communicator – They're shooting missiles at us!

- We'll try to climb to the top helipad! – he heard her scream – Make the helicopter approaches, keep the others entertained!

He nodded and adjusted his gloves.

- Here we go. – he murmured.

(..)

The rise was endless. Radha felt a tremendous pain in the chest after running out of breath, but she assumed that Maddalena would suffer more, hurt as she was.

Kurtis demolished the door leading to the roof with a kick. But they didn't immediately leave. He and Lara were glued to the wall and peered outward. Everything was deafened by the noise of the helicopter's propellers, which was coming down slowly. It almost managed to cover up the explosions and flashes outside the Island.

They saw people waving from the cockpit. Marie and Marcus were there. Lara waved them. Then she turned to them:

- Radha will go first. I'll cover her.

- No, I'll cover her. - Kurtis said suddenly.

Lara frowned.

- Kurtis...

- Trust me. They won't shoot at me. And if they dare, they won't reach me.

- How can you be so sure of that?

- I don't know, but I am sure.

Finally, she nodded. At that time, there was a tremendous explosion. They shrank against the wall, and saw a trail of fire that was heading towards the sea.

- They have brought down another plane! - Maddalena said, terrified.

- Come on, Radha. - Kurtis urged.

She placed next to him. Seeing her, Lara was surprised how much she had grown since the last time she had seen her. She reached Kurtis' shoulder, and he was a tall man. She had had a tremendous growth spurt.

She had no more time to think, because in that moment both them came out running at the helicopter, which planned to almost touching the ground. The propeller's roar was really deafening, and the wind shook the girl's dark hair, wrapping her head in a black cloud.

She should have guessed that. At the moment they saw them out, about ten different mercenaries left corners of the roof to attack. Lara, however, didn't wait to see them injured. From her parapet she drew her gun and started shooting. A shower of shrapnel hit the steel door and she rushed to hide behind it, while Maddalena shrank at her side, watching the sparks that dotted the door.

For Radha any distance traveled in her life became longer than that twenty paces. Projectiles rained around her, but she didn't even have time to scream. Protected by Kurtis, she ran though everything was like in slow motion, until she finally saw the brown arms of a dark-skinned woman who pull her, boarding her on the helicopter.

- Go up, little one! - she said.

Kurtis had retreated to the ladder's dugout. At that time something exploded near him and he was thrown against the wall. A grenade.

- Kurtis!

- I'm fine. – he said, standing next to Lara.

Maddalena, who was leaning out of the stairs, shouted:

- There are soldiers going up!

- Well here we go. - determined Lara – Three us all.

The redhead urged herself to control her trembling legs (under pants, she even noticed the sticky traces of blood) and when they ran, the air struck her face and another burst of fire blinded her eyes. For a moment her eyes went to the beach and she distinguished cast shadows on the sand. They were the bodies of fallen mercenaries, soaked each one in his own pool of blood.

Then she was driven up and she went up.

Lara was about to board when a cry stopped them. Sitting as she was already, she saw Adolf Schäffer in the doorway. The chief said nothing. He just fired.

Maddalena screamed. The bullet hit the upholstery and jumped a ball of foam. From the back seat, Marcus shouted:

- God! Come up at once!

As their boss was there, and was advancing a few steps, mercenaries didn't fire anymore. At the time Lara drove to climb, another bullet grazed her thigh. A stream of blood leaped and splashed Maddalena's blouse, who let out a cry of horror.

Kurtis stepped in and shot Schäffer. He wore a bulletproof vest and a bullet was not enough, but he was shot him repeatedly and dropped him back to the ground, screaming in pain with damaged ribs. That was the indication for his men, who rushed towards him and fired again.

But Lara and Kurtis had gone into the helicopter and the door slammed shut. The bullets now couldn't but leave slight swellings on the glass.

- Don't worry! - said the pilot - The best shield of the British Army!

Slowly they began to ascend. Lara was back in her seat, and Marie and Marcus were already with her, examining the injured thigh.

- It's nothing. – she murmured, and then she smiled at Kurtis – We've escaped.

He smiled back.

The pain was disappearing and the blood no longer flowed. Marcus moved his fingers over the wound.


	34. Chapter 33: Memories of a Healer

**Chapter 33: Memories of a Healer**

The helicopter and the survivors of Justin's brigade met in Romania, near Bran's castle. Six aircraft had dropped from a total of twelve who had come.

- Don't know how sorry I am, Justin. - Lara muttered, casting her eyes by his men.

He shook his head.

- Don't worry. I'll take care of everything. We knew there was a risk and that we committed ourselves to something dangerous. Tell me what the hell was that? A mafia, a cult?

- Something like that, Justin... I'm sorry but I can't tell you more. You've already been involved enough. The favor is more than returned.

- What for? - Kurtis said then, who was behind her, leaning on a fence.

Justin smiled.

- Soldier Croft saved my life in a skirmish we had for... Bangladesh?

- Exactly. - she smiled.

- I was so grateful that I promised that one day I would return her the favor of her life.

- And you've done. - she smiled - Thank you, Justin. Without you there would have been impossible.

He saluted and walked to his plane. The rest of his men followed him. Before boarding, he turned and said:

- I have no idea who you are or why you're so important, Kurtis Trent, but I hope you know how to thank all this!

- Of course. - he replied, repeating the gesture.

When they had taken off and disappeared over the horizon, he added:

- Has been worth it, Lara?

- How can you ask that? - she replied, placing her arms around his neck - Almost three months, Kurtis. I should have come sooner.

She brushed his mouth with her lips. At that time, they heard Zip's voice, shouting full voice from the window on the castle's third floor:

- Oh my God! Stop those two criminals! They're making a public scandal!

- Come on, Lara. Everybody is looking at us.

- Nevermind. - she said, mocking, and began to kiss him harder.

(…)

That night was one of the happiest to remember for some time. Kurtis had returned safe and sound, there was another Lux Veritatis, and Healer, Radha had been rescued, were sufficient grounds for celebration. For once, Vlad didn't care to have his offices crowded.

Of course, Kurtis refused to talk about what had happened, and Maddalena hadn't said anything about her rape. It was Marcus who released four jokes about his long stay in prison, as dismissively, and Marie remained silent the whole time, clutching her son's hand. Even when Kurtis joked about he was truly him Marie wouldn't release him.

Maddalena remained silent and aloof. For some reason, she felt as if she had nothing to do with that situation. As if an intruder in that plot, as if she was there by mistake.

By Radha's, she hadn't said anything about Sciarra's death. Although Kurtis more than once had looked at her askance, and although he hadn't said anything, she couldn't help but shudder. Something told her that he suspected something.

That night Lara and Kurtis made love furiously, almost desperately. It was as if time and the world itself will soon be cast over them. Lara felt, thought she saw that there was a sword of Damocles suspended between them, and that the sword would fall and cut violently separating them again, perhaps forever. Every time he made love to her (and they were many, despite the depletion of both) she clung to him fiercely, digging her nails into his skin, scratching him even, because over his shoulder she seemed to see the damn Bathsheba, who smiled at her as Karel did once, ready to snatch Kurtis from her arms.

_It's driving me crazy. All this is driving me crazy._

Already in the morning he fell asleep, and then she went to the bathroom to empty her stomach. Nausea had come back.

She looked at herself naked in the mirror and touched her belly. Had she noticed it softer, more rounded? Apart from those ailments, and the painful swelling of her breasts, she would almost deny she was pregnant. Three months, and she barely looked like pregnant. It was said that the characteristics of pregnancy and childbirth often passed down from mother to daughter. She smiled bitterly. Wow, that was the first time she thought of her mother so long. What would she think of that?

_Outrageous, Lara. Without a doubt._

Kurtis hadn't noticed anything. He himself couldn't even imagine that. Well, sooner or later she would have to tell him.

But Lara hadn't reached that point.

(…)

For a few days, all of them were quiet. Lara chose not to return to England, even to leave Radha there. Surrey Manor was no longer safe, and anyway it would be best for Winston, because if they stayed away from there, nobody would go back to bother him or put his life in danger. Or at least, so she hoped.

They met often at Vlad's library to discuss. Neither Radha nor Maddalena took part. The redhead didn't matter so much about that. Often the castle tourists saw her wandering by outdoors or through the courtyard, surrounding herself with arms and head down, and her splendid red hair covering her face. When a friendly traveler, concerned, approached to ask if she was okay, she raised her head and showed a vacant smile, and then she continued wandering. It was obvious that something was consuming her from the inside.

And it wasn't because of her recent rape. In fact, she recently had menstruated again and therefore the panic of becoming pregnant of that monster disappeared. The rest was easily surpassed. For her, male brutality had been the daily bread. Maybe in that, she was stronger than any other woman.

What consumed her was doubt, torment. She was in love with a man who didn't share her feelings. When being a child she had been taught that love was her profession's enemy. If a prostitute fell in love, she was lost. No more living, but dying of hunger.

While walking, all that was spinning in her head. She had even thought in leaving prostitution. Now she was an adult and had escaped from the clutches of the madams of Sicily, and also from Monteleone. Couldn't she already make her own life? But it wasn't easy.

If Kurtis had loved her... if that damned Lara wasn't in the middle... maybe things were easier for her. Maybe he could have loved her, after all, despite having been a prostitute. She had been told stories of prostitutes who had fallen in love with soldiers and had left the work forever.

Damn that woman. Damn him, who couldn't look away from her. Hadn't she been said that men are treacherous? Didn't most of her customers have girlfriends and wives, and yet they went to fetch her? She would have wanted him to be like them, although he despised her.

And so she spent her hours, like a lost soul. She didn't even noticed people looking at her.

However, Radha bothered for being excluded from those private meetings. She used to slip to the large mahogany door and stuck her ear to the door. Unfortunately, if she barely understood English, she knew nothing of French, which they used to keep more privacy.

(…)

It was the third day when Marcus secretly called Lara. The old man had been waiting these days and finally met her in Ivanoff's office. Lara was struck by this man, who in theory was like Kurtis, but also completely different.

- Take this daughter, it's for you. - and handed her a bundle of twisted and blackened sheets, handwritten in an elegant curved letter, with pencil.

Lara took off the rubber that held the bundle and flipped through it. It stank of damp and was stained.

- This is a report I wrote during the months I was a prisoner at the base of Moscow. I estimate that by the time you've just killed the Alchemist and still nothing was known about the Golden Seal and its role. When having time I'll include everything you told me these days.

- They let you write this? - Lara asked, surprised.

Marcus nodded.

- He did. That demon of Karel. He forced me somewhat, but I also wanted. I guess that's why I was left alive. They wanted my wisdom and my memories to find even more about the enemy. For months I had it, and sometimes he snatched it from me, read it and gave it back to me. Yes, there was a chance to lie but after... - then his voice broke - after giving me a good lesson, he made sure I didn't.

Lara didn't want to ask what had been such "good lesson".

- Then, when Karel died, I keep the manuscript. Sometimes I hid it in my clothes, others in some corner of the cell. Dr. Boaz doesn't know its existence, but Bathsheba does. She laughed and let me keep it. I got it into a hole torn in the ceiling where the water didn't come. I want you to read, it's important for you to know this.

She nodded.

- What's the report about?

Marcus smiled, but it was a bitter smile.

- About the Order's final agony. About my last days in freedom and above all, about Kurtis.

Lara raised her eyebrows in surprise.

- About Kurtis?

- Don't show him the report. Knowing him, he may become furious. Oh yes, I knew him, though he didn't recognized me. I pretended not to know him in prison, but the truth is that I followed his course by the Order since before he was born even.

So there was a Kurtis' report. Unbelievable. What he never would tell her was there. She could hardly wait to read it.

- Thank you, Marcus. I hope my reading may be helpful.

- I have arranged for when you've done, give it to Selma. She has offered to transcribe it and Zip to computer its files. The original must be destroyed.

Lara nodded. When Marcus came out, she went to the couch, laid full length, and swinging the leg, began to read.

(…)

_Report on the Order in its last days, by Marcus the Healer _

Lux Veritatis' Order was born in the fifteenth century. It's impossible to pinpoint the exact year, because the older files were destroyed by Pieter Van Eckhardt in assault on Beirut's headquarters in the seventies. And now, at the beginning of XXI century, we can say (I can say) that we're over. The Order has died. Our enemies have finally crushed us.

In this cold dark cell in which I write, I am convinced that this report will have some meaning. Karel let me write it. I see her cold smile between the bars every time he passing by. He amuses seeing me overwhelmed, so he gave me pen and paper. _Write old man; let's see what you tell me_. Overall, when Eckhardt knew about it, he'll catch fire to it, as he burned everything that was ours.

But I must do this, even in defense of my soul. Then, if they want to kill me and burn the papers, so be.

_About the author_

I know it sounds pretentious, but I would like to start this report talking about myself. My name is Marcus... only Marcus. Our surname vanishes when joining the Order and no Lux Veritatis would feel proud of using a surname of any kind. Brother Marcus the Healer is my name.

I was born about sixty-four years ago. My father was a Healer like me and my mother, one of the Order's wisest women. I didn't manifest the Don up to 16 years and then I joined the service of our community. Since that day there was nothing more important to me, as it should be.

My wisdom and good sense made my brothers to love me and some time my appointment as Grand Master was considered. That made me panic because I'm gentle and humble and I couldn't bear a rate as high risk, which put me in the eye of the hurricane, the top of the Alchemist's victims who wanted to destroy. However, once the Master is elected, he can't renounce. And I didn't get to be as I was captured on the eve of my appointment. Had Eckhardt seen what I was to become? I don't know. Since then I have never known freedom, and a greatest one took my place. But I'll come back to this later.

Oh Blessed Light ... Why don't they kill me? When will end this agony?

However, I'm not the main protagonist of this report. I was nearly fifty years, and I had seen the death of my wife and the growth and sacrifice of my children's life, when the present one came to the Order. Somehow, his presence announced me the Order's end as any other fate had. May the Holy Light forgive him.

_Concerning brother Kurtis the Fighter_

I must talk about him, partly because he finds in everything, partly because Karel forces me to do so. He wants to know his enemy to have power over him. Well, I hope the reader understands that I had no choice. It only remains for me to lose life, and yet, still love her.

Brother Kurtis is the son of the great Konstantin and Marie Cornel. But before talking about the child, I can't leave out neither the father nor the grandfather.

Our Order has always witnessed the birth and death of powerful figures. We all share the Don, but we're not equal at all. First of all, Fighters appear to be advantaged, because they're not only able to use telekinesis and to alter matter, but they are also clairvoyant, they acknowledge the past and future through dreams, visions and touches, and they can also move their mind to the immaterial plans they want. Just because they're so powerful and dangerous, hence the discipline they receive it's a hundred times harder.

Healers have the power of healing. We can stop bleeding and prevent infection. We order the blood to stop flowing, we threw pus out of the wound, we order harmful microorganisms to cease their advance and retire. Oh, but we can't completely rebuild a bone or repair tissue, or leave intact an empty eye, or a severed hand in its place. Only the Nephilim (cursed be their name) could do that.

By contrast, our ability to wisdom is greater than the Fighters' one. Web interpret their dreams and visions, we give them advice and counsel. Without us they couldn't withstand the heavy burden imposed to them. They fight and we advise. Yes, we're both very important and necessary classes, even as a child I always wanted to be a Fighter and shoot down objects, blowing up the matter and see the past and the future.

Oh, I don't want it more. Blessed be the Light who made me a Healer. If Fighter, I would be already dead. What am I saying? All them have died. Both Healers and Fighters, and with them their wives and families.

What do they want from me?

But I mustn't digress. As I say, there were always powerful figures that exceeded the normal average. Gerhardt was the first among the Fighters in hundreds of years that revealed a great power. I remember the Grand Master of the time (in the Light he may rest) was horrified to see his amazing ability. I had only to close my eyes to see everything. All. The movements of the enemy, those who would be born and die...

Gerhardt overwhelmed everyone with his glance. Her eyes had a strange dark blue, and I, who was a child when he was at the peak of his life, I remember trembling when he looked at me.

His son, Konstantin, inherited his traits. Again he rebelled as a being of great power. Gerhardt's legacy, when killed, went to him and multiplied. His life coincided with the period of greatest struggle and the beginning of the end of the Order. He gave himself in body and soul to the struggle. The woman he chose as his wife was no less remarkable than him, although she didn't have the Don. When Marie Cornel came to the Order, we all knew that she wouldn't disappoint us. She was strong as an oak. Yes, she was worthy of her husband.

What I would never have expected is that Eckhardt's rage was so brutally directed to the fruit of her womb. When we learned she was pregnant (then I was an adult and had my own family) we all rejoiced. Undoubtedly, Konstantin's son would be as or more powerful than him, since he had been greater than his predecessor.

Inexplicably, the Alchemist forgot about the Order, forgot Konstantin himself, who had infringed serious damage and attacks to him, and focused all his rage into a single objective: to kill Marie Cornel.

Yes, brother Kurtis was besieged before birth, even. But that was our fate... and in him it was multiplied by one thousand.

We turn to protect this blessed woman. She was brave as the bravest of us. She accepted her fate with a curt nod and spent her nine months of pregnancy fleeing and hiding, hiding and fleeing. Another one would have succumbed to such pressure, another one would have even lost her child, but as I said, she was exceptional.

She was... Why I talk in the past? May the Light want she's still alive. I know that she was not among the Tenebra's crucified ones.

Brother Kurtis' birth was extraordinary, or at least that's said. I have been spoken many times of how it went. It became a buzz in the Order, and Konstantin was proud to have it known.

Marie Cornel had given birth alone in the middle of a meadow at night. She had fled the town in which she sought refuge, only a few miles from Utah, USA. Two Fighter brothers were with her, guarding her, when a brigade serving the Alchemist attacked. They contained them as she fled. She ran through the prairie and left behind the skirmish, and when she only could hear the sound of her own breathing, and crickets at night, she broke waters.

She gave birth there, with a handkerchief in her mouth so that her pursuers couldn't hear the least groan, and cut the umbilical cord with her own teeth. After wrapping the baby born, she adjusted him on her lap and got up and continued her flight. The Light wanted to stop her bleeding and not left her die.

Yes, certainly she's a unique woman.

As usual in these cases, we offered her protection. When our women gave birth or were in charge of young children, we held them in our offices. Being the most vulnerable members they were at the mercy of the enemy.

To our surprise, Marie refused all protection. She felt it was safer to get away from us for being what most would attract the enemy. Although she was faced with her husband, who was anxious above all to protect both her and the child, and with us, who thought that every male born was valuable (because, for reasons we fail to understand, the women have never inherited the Don), she refused to take shelter in our locations. She said it was safer for her and her son to be away from our influence. But our Order follows a very strict discipline, and although we agree to her wishes (maybe he was right, given the fury with Eckhardt followed us lately) we never let her completely alone. We always install one or two of our close to their places of refuge, at least to inform us about danger. Marie made us swear that her son would never see any of us hanging around.

And so it was. At least until four years of age, there was no person in Kurtis' life apart of her own mother, and a distant and unreal father who would not even know until seventeen.

I think Marie had harbored the secret hope that her son wouldn't have inherited the Don and would never have to know anything about the Order and the War of Shadows. It's understandable, as the Don is a gift that demands a bitter price in exchange, and I guess we all would have preferred that our children would have been _normal_ (whatever that means it) rather than finishing crucified in the dark.

Unfortunately, Marie's wishes were not fulfilled. And Kurtis, with only four years old, had to witness, hearsay, how Eckhardt crushed and quartered the Grand Master of the time, who had hidden Marie and her son in the basement of a shelter. Presumably he would never forget something like that (though of course we've never heard him of it, nor of what happened at his 10 years of age).

He had, in fact, ten years when three mercenaries broke Cabal's protective circle and killed Stevens, the brother who was keeping Marie. Those three savages broke into the house and attempted to rape the mother before her son. What happened then can only be explained by a reaction of terror against something that he didn't understand but was terrible to see. Kurtis' fear and anguish concentrated and exploded in his mind, releasing the energy that destroyed the fragile elements around him (that is, the window panes) and killed the attackers with the rain of sharp objects. For us this signal was more than enough. Kurtis had inherited the Don.

Konstantin was so proud to know it, but even though he wished, he couldn't meet him. He was now a leader in the war (that sounds blasphemous, but he was more respected than the Grand Master himself) and he was in fact our only hope. He was an excellent strategist and could stay calm even in desperate times. Much of his coldness and lack of expression, if not all, was inherited by his son. Well, as his son, he had exceeded a hundred times to his father, and immediately we expected as much as or even more of that child, who suddenly had become a living legend.

But Marie refused to live with us. A Lux Veritatis' strict training begins at nineteen, but generally we believe it's important to advise the child from a very early age, helping him to understand his special nature and to love and master it. Marie didn't let us to do that and pushed him away as she could, far from the Order. Was she supposed to be blamed for what happened next? Was she who instilled Kurtis' rebellious spirit that defied all our conceptions and shook the Order's foundations? I won't dare to say so.

Kurtis vanished from our orbit at nineteen. It was then when he finally met his father and this one, rejecting Marie's protests, introduced him to the Order. I was then present at the conclave which was held in Berlin, and I could see him. No doubt he was a portrait of his father. He was a tall and strong boy, and had a stern look, who promised so much. After submitting with resignation to all the tests we did to him, it was clear that the Don was very powerful in him, as it was in his father and had been in his grandfather. We were excited because we knew that as soon as we train him, he would be even stronger.

I remember Marie being sullen in those days, walking down the halls of our headquarters. Never seen her so angry. Because of my vicious curiosity, I witnessed an argument between her and her husband. Konstantin said that this son was a gift from heaven, that he would help the Order to overcome the crisis and that perhaps he would defeat Eckhardt and all we would be free at last.

I remember exactly what Marie shouted to him. He said, _"You intend to use him as a weapon! What's wrong with your Order? Don't you care about the blood of your beloved ones? You have your new Messiah, who will be offered in sacrifice to this futile cause as your father was sacrificed and as you will be sacrificed too! "._

Then she began to mourn and would not see anyone for weeks. Only she let her child son to into her room, and have told him all the time: _"Flee, Kurtis, flee from here. This cause serves only to destroy lives. Don't let them to kill you. Run away from here."_

I won't say he didn't try so. But he tried too late. And when he did, he ran squarely with our defenses, our invisible walls. A Lux Veritatis' formation is long and hard, and discipline is very severe. The rebels are punished without mercy, and Kurtis was more rebellious than none of them ever. He was punished when he didn't wan to train the Don. He was punished when he didn't answer to our questions. He was punished when he tried to escape. He was punished when he attacked his own instructors.

He was a very temperamental boy with regular outbursts of anger and aggression. Unwilling to submit to our dictates, He didn't controlled well his skills, and once he almost killed one of the instructors. He burst a vein in his stomach just by piercing him with his eyes and almost died there, vomiting blood. We saved him by little.

Although he had been horrified and impressed, and was more than clear that his intention was not to kill him, he was given a very severe punishment. By then I was a member of the Council, and I strongly objected, saying he was just a young man who didn't knew what he did and that imposing more punishment to him would be only useful to gain his hatred for ever. But they didn't listen to me.

The sentence to an attempted murder in the Order is punishable by five hundred blows of belt around the body and being neglected in a cold, dark cell for ten days without water and food. The belt was packed with bent nails and small crystals, and in the cell everyone was naked and had to stand up since it was monstrously narrow. The reader will understand that it was a punishment too cruel for a young man of twenty years old and couldn't control his anger and immense power.

The superiors instructed that Marie wouldn't know that. At that time she lived in a separate block and inward-lived, and Konstantin had gone back to the fight. I refused to be present at the flogging and then I spent four days without wanting to talk to my colleagues in the Council. I was very confused.

Finally, I decided to visit him. He had spent five days in the cell. He was standing up, how it could be otherwise, but half reclining on the back wall. His eyes were closed and arms folded across his chest. I felt appalled at the state of his body, in which the cuts were still open despite the streams of blood had coagulated. The skin had a bluish tint and his lips were purple. It was easy to guess, naked as he was, that he was in a state of hypothermia.

- Brother... - I murmured.

He couldn't see me through the bars and didn't hear my voice clearly, but he opened his eyes and looked towards me. The look he gave me back was enough for me to read the deepest hatred in him.

- Are you one of those Council's butchers?

I gulped.

- I voted against your punishment. Brother, I can't do more to help you. You must submit and receive the training.

- Don't want any of your Order and your powers.

- Brother, what Marie said to you...

- Leave my mother alone. I don't need her to tell me anything. I've seen with my own eyes. Here you train the people to go to be slaughtered in a war I don't know for a cause I don't care. I won't be your _kamikaze_.

I didn't know what to say. It was the first time I faced a radical vision of what was the Order.

- Son, even if you don't like, the power you have is too strong. We can't let you going throughout the world without a full knowledge of your skills and being unable to control them. You're a Fighter, Kurtis, and this implies a great responsibility.

- I won't use those powers at all. I don't want them.

- If you don't control them, then they will control you. You can't refuse. They will arise in you when not invoked. They will come to your defense when you're in danger. You must learn to control them. If not, you'll be like a walking time bomb. You will be a danger to anyone near you. Surrender!

He scrutinized me with his blue eyes. It was surprising to find that, even though blue eyes are a recessive genotype, Gerhardt had passed them to Konstantin, Konstantin to Kurtis, and I know that the wives of both had dark eyes, that is, a dominant genotype. Typically, Konstantin and Kurtis would have had dark eyes. It was very strange. Would be that strange color of eyes a genetic manifestation of the strongest Don than our Order never knew before?

But I digress as the ailing old I am. Back to what matters.

- If I let you to train me, - he muttered then – will you leave me go?

I shook my head.

- It's difficult, Kurtis. You have too much power. Your skills are valuable to us...

- I'm your weapon, right? The Messiah.

Ah, his grin, his sarcastic grin!

- We don't rejoice in the deaths of our brothers. We cry for them. But the cause of Dark Alchemist and the Nephilim is something that, if not stopped, will eventually consume the world and end humans. Now we're us who suffer, Kurtis, but if we surrender, they will pass over us, then will be the human race to suffer... innocent, helpless, without a Don that will help to protect them. That is why we suffer and die. Because if they defeat us, all is lost.

He separated from the wall and approached towards the door. I stepped back. Ashamed to admit I was scared. I was scared of his blue eyes. He could produce me a brain stroke, if he wanted. God, I was terrified.

- Let's make a deal, you, that damned Council, and me. - he said, smiling - I'll let you do whatever you want with me. Make me become a beautiful suicide killing machine. And then we'll talk.

He stepped back and leaned back against the wall. He was shivering. He was covered in blood. I rushed back to the Council and have him released.

From that moment, he didn't express opposition to the trials of training.

But certainly we hadn't won. He submitted, even with the greatest resignation, to everything we wanted from him, and we require nearly three times than what we demanded from a normal Fighter. But he wasn't a normal Fighter, everything was perfectly justified. We realize that we were hard and even unpleasant, and we took his pride to force him even more, because he had sworn to himself not to show weakness or weariness before our eyes and we knew it and still demanded more from him. But it was justified. Over time, we made him the best Fighter the Order had ever known so far... or that he would have been, if he had wanted to. We wrote to Konstantin and told him: _"Your son has exceeded you."_ He was very pleased.

How wrong we were. With every look, with every silence, Kurtis promised revenge. I can't speak about the secret rituals and tests we conducted to our apprentices, and I won't talk even if my skin is pulled up in strips. The secret is sacred and I'll take it to the grave. His coldness and almost suicidal contempt he used to face our challenges somewhat frightened us, but we had never thought he counted every day as a step towards freedom and towards the day of his revenge.

Which certainly didn't exist. On the eve of his appointment, having finished his training with flying colors, we announced him that he would be immediately sent to his father, to fight, and make him a speech in which we told him to surrender completely to win the war. We told him that he was the instrument of our victory. He just smiled.

That night for the first time he attempted to commit suicide. We were not expecting such thing. For us, suicide is a cowardly, shameful, unworthy act. Indeed, very unlike of him or the image that we had formed of him.

Then he tried three more times. He tried to hang himself. Then he slit his wrists, and finally we imprisoned him and he broke the lamp bulb on the cell and swallowed the broken crystals. This time we almost didn't save him. It only served to hate us even more. Why? Is that we were trying to kill him?

When those suicidal tendencies appeared to be reversing, he began the ritual of consecration. For many of us it wasn't clear at all that he was ready. I literally defined that he was disturbed and was a danger rather than the salvation of the Order.

For the umpteenth time, I wasn't listened. His skill, intelligence and ability were so impressive that too many were blinded with him.

He went through the rituals with meekness and let us to tattoo the Sacred Symbol on his shoulder. But the day before going to battle, he disappeared.

If only it had been that. But he made a greatest sacrilege. He killed one of our brothers, a colleague, a Fighter, who tried to block his path. He stood up, they fought and he killed him. He then fled.

For many it was a big hit. For me, a catastrophe foretold. They blamed Marie, who was considered an accomplice to the escape. I'm ashamed of this because she had had enough with her inner suffering. We reprimanded her and she disappeared also, after a few days.

I guess nothing tied her to our Order.

When Konstantin knew this, he flew into a rage and he reneged on his son, in whom he had pinned all his hopes, and who now betrayed him and covered him with shame thereby.

From this point, my information about brother Kurtis becomes blurred. He appeared to be reunited with his mother and sought for her a safe haven. Then, he joined the Foreign Legion, the most disciplined faction in the Army, where criminals and murderers give their service in exchange for escape from imprisonment and death. Of course, he was extremely smart in doing that, as any personal background is eliminated to give complete anonymity on the identity of the soldier. He adopted a false surname and I suppose he spent five years venting his anger and violence. If death was what he wanted, certainly he didn't found it, and after a while he was expelled because of _"strange events and phenomena that terrified their superiors."_

I know what it was. Demons. At last they had found him, and they will persecute him forever.

He will be pursued until his death.

Then I have news that he joined the mercenaries' agency of Marten Gunderson, a visceral gross without past or future that, to make matters worse, went on to serve no less than the Cabal. Kurtis fled shortly after knowing it. Fortunately.

From that moment, I lose his track. I was told that he had decided to avenge the death of Konstantin, but his attempt is the attempt of a madman. Now that we're almost all dead, now that he's alone, his amazing ability will be useless.

My anger is the result of my bitterness, I know. But I can't understand him. Maybe...

Perhaps the key is that brother Kurtis hates himself as much as he hates us. He has chosen for him a life of hardship and despair, a life perhaps similar to what he would have enjoyed in the Order. I think at this point isn't fair to judge him. Who knows... perhaps we were who were wrong. Maybe that's why we've lost.

(…)

The writing stopped at the time. Lara looked up. Her temples throbbed as if a headache were to burst her skull.

So that was it. Was this the reason, a motif seen through the eyes of a close one, of the introversion, coldness and isolation of Kurtis. That was, at least in part, the man whom she had fallen in love.

The truth is that after discovering all this, she neither disliked nor hated him. She just could saw everything more clearly. She was surprised to see how close they were to each other, in how much they looked alike. A life imposed by obligation. A suffocating life from anyone wanted to escape.

She, however, never attempted to commit suicide. But she was never demanded hard physical evidence, and she never had been applied punishment, nor has been intended to be sent to kill for a cause she didn't believe in. She smiled bitterly. She, who had been believed herself a heroine, she was so, but not for having run out of a jeweled room.

She stood, holding the bundle of papers, when suddenly one slipped to the ground. She froze. She had not seen it before. She picked it up, surprised, because it was a paper that had been crumpled into a ball and hard by what appeared to be dark bloodstains. She smoothed it a bit and read it.

Then she lifted her head and looked around, stunned. Nothing justified the presence of that paper there. It made no sense...

_My name is Kurtis Trent, son of Marie Cornel and Konstantin, but don't say Konstantin Trent because that was not his real name, Trent was a nickname I created when I decided to disappear from the world and get lost in the Legion._

_You know, when you enter the Legion, you become a killing machine, you no longer have past and future doesn't mind, you become made of steel inside and out and you get to forget that you were once something else. The Legion is a refuge for criminals and murderers, no matter your background, any atrocity you have committed is cleared by the service you provide, a hard service in the harshest faction of the army, where just coughing before a superior makes you to receive such punishment to make you lose the urge to cough forever._

_But I wasn't a criminal. At least I wasn't when I got there. It wasn't like the others, I wasn't looking for becoming the killing machine I became, nor did I enjoy it. I just wanted to erase my past and leave behind the bloody fate that had touched me._

_Because I'm the last of the Lux Veritatis, a mystical Ancient Order of warriors, killed and massacred by the Cabal, that den of rats led by the sadistic Eckhardt. I won't say that we were innocent. At the end of the day, we also did everything possible to stop them and killed many. But they were evil while we were the "good ones". Or so I was taught. Now I doubt many things._

_Was I a coward for escaping from a struggle in which I didn't want to be, to renounce to a gift which had been granted to me and deny an imposed destination, to seek refuge in the Legion? I don't know, since I don't understand about honor, but I know there is no honor in dying without cause, and then that case was not mine. _

_From what little served to me those five years I spent in the Legion. Those who chased me ended by finding me and my severe masters shook with fear even perceiving what I was or could be. Again I had to flee. All life on the run, fleeing from this cursed inheritance, which finds you wherever you go._

_From legionnaire I became a mercenary. I committed atrocities I don't want to remember. My poor mother, who sacrificed everything for me, would be ashamed to get to know what I did. Paradoxically, who was then my boss and my best friend, Marten Gunderson, would become the right hand of Eckhardt. One of the cruelest ironies of life is that for a long time he had been looking for me without knowing it was me who he was looking for. But before he discovered that I had fled again. One more time._

_And then they killed my father. Konstantin, the warrior, who never refused anything, who sacrificed himself for his Order to the end. I barely got to know him; his corpse was as foreign to me as any other one. But before him I took an oath. It was enough of denying what I really was. I resigned myself to being Kurtis Trent. I resigned myself to be Demon Hunter._

_For this oath I'm absolutely sorry. It seems to me that I won't get rid of it. Not until I see Eckhardt dead and paying for his crimes. Not until justice is done._

_And I've been alone... until now. Someone gave me a helping hand from the other side, a woman so unique and extraordinary. Her cause is not mine but she won't hesitate to retaliate to all us... including me, who agonized over this grid, slowly bleeding while I wait for her return. Because she won't fail, I'm sure she won't fail as I failed. In her hands lies the end of it all, great paradox, my Order and my father will be avenged by an unknown woman..._

_Shadows dance around me and clouded my vision. The pain is so strong that I can't almost feel it. Return, Lara. Return victorious again with me, I will show you the way. I'm hurt but not dead yet. And to die is the last thing I'll do... you can hurt me, you can get me out of the way, but never kill me. That's a Lux Veritatis oath!_


	35. Chapter 34: The Voice In The Dark

**Chapter 34: The Voice in the Dark**

Giselle looked out the window and took the coffee cup to her lips. Then she set it aside and looked mechanically at the crimson lipstick imprint she had just left on the cup's edge. Absolutely all the days of her life, since she was 15 years old, she used to get up and make-up carefully. Her mother had taught both she and Kristina that makeup make the ugly beautiful and the beautiful were embellished further. And they had been always been very beautiful. She had never missed the ritual in the mirror, in which, concentrated, covered her white skin with a touch of color, highlighting the green of her eyes and painted her lips in red, giving a truly exquisite appearance. At least, until Kristina had that terrible accident and was disfigured face. The most skillful surgery hadn't been enough to completely restore her lost beauty.

Giselle was very attractive, and could have had the men she wanted. Her slender complexion, the delicacy of her face and her soft voice made her infinitely sensual. However, her coldness and her vocation to surrender both body and soul to science had made her become a strange laboratory goddess, as insensitive as inaccessible. She had closed the door to herself to be happier.

She was still young. Twenty-eight years is nothing. There was still time for...

She didn't realize that the cup had slipped from her fingers until she heard the dull crashing to the ground. The sound startled her but she didn't lower her gaze.

- Doctor...

Schäffer approached her from behind. She went rigid, staring at the beautiful seascape, with hands still in position to hold the cup.

- Adolf... – she murmured, her voice cracking.

The burly mercenary bent, picked up the pieces of the cup and tossed them into a wastebasket nearby. Then he turned and watched at her with a critical eye. She hadn't moved.

- Can I talk you with confidence from now, Giselle? I won't unless you authorize me, but there's something I want to tell you.

He crossed his arms and cocked his head. The doctor turned to face him, her eyes dilated.

- Giselle, we have hit bottom. From now on, the way forward is gone. We must make our own decisions.

She didn't react. Schäffer went to her and grabbed her elbow.

- Giselle, open your eyes! We're alone in this. We have to think of something to do. But stayong here in this fortress, only would hasten our fall.

- What did I do wrong? - she whispered, stunned - I've given everything by science. I gave everything for Eckhardt, I gave it all for Joach... Joachim. I gave my uterus to generate a creature more beautiful than a flower and more powerful than a raging ocean. I killed Gertrude, who was the oldest of us. I risked everything. What have I done wrong?

Her voice trembled. Schäffer himself was aware that this situation humiliated her and later he would pay for having seen her so vulnerable in that state. But he shrugged.

- You must forget the Lady... your daughter. Look, she's not human. For some time she had been following her own path. She marked a destination for herself we don't understand and so she refuses to share with us. – he hesitated - I'm not very smart, Giselle, I'm just a mercenary... but I learn from my mistakes, and especially from the mistakes of others. All who came before us, strong and weak, mortal and immortal, have fallen. We're alone and we have hit bottom. We must think what to do.

She took two steps and sat at the table.

- Are you talking about leaving my experiments, my patients?

- Your doctors and assistants will take care of them. You've been a good teacher and they will know how to go on.

Giselle's eyes narrowed.

- What would I do out of my world?

Schäffer's mouth twitched.

- Giselle, Giselle... it's shameful to see how you waste yourself. No, let me conclude. I won't woo you like a drunk or telling you obscenities like that Italian monster. So much concentrated hatred should have its way out, my pretty, otherwise you'll explode. You fell in love with a being that wasn't for you, who never could have be yours even if you had begged him on your knees...

For a moment the woman's cheeks flushed and she returned to be Dr. Boaz. She stood up, furious, on her two heels, and exploded:

- How dare you? Insolent! Who told you...!

- Please forgive me. I've been rude. But it was an open secret, my dear. Don't think I made fun of you. Even the boss Gunderson pitied you.

Giselle snorted. For her, her servant's compassion was worse than her enemies' hatred.

- All which have to do with Joachim Karel is ancient history.

- Sure, my pretty?

He walked up to her and looked at her with affection.

- You still cry for him at night. We tortured the Lux Veritatis so viciously that we almost killed him. But it wasn't enough for you. When will you rest, Giselle Boaz? What does it take for you to find peace, so you can love again, so you can erase the face of that ruthless Nephilim from your eyes and your memory?

Then something happened that she hadn't anticipated. Her eyes filled with tears and slipped softly on her cheeks. Her eye make-up ran, leaving two black strains on her face.

- I want them dead. I want Kurtis Trent dead. I want Lara Croft dead. I want Selma Al-Jazeera, Vladimir Ivanoff dead... I want that cursed Marcus dead... I want all who made fun of me dead. I'm sick of all this. No more torture, no more prisons. Death, Adolf! Fast death, simple and serene. I don't care anymore about their suffering. I just want them wiped off the face of the Earth. That they can't laugh anymore. That they can't celebrate their victory. That they can't do anything.

Adolf smiled.

- Killing is easy, nice doctor. You do it every day. So do I. And when they're dead, will have you peace? Will you be able to look out at me as something more than your faithful servant?

She looked shocked.

- I hope you understand that I'm trying to make this easy. I have a lot respect for you and I won't hesitate. I'm at your service. Ask me anything and you'll have.

Suddenly she laughed. She threw her head back and burst into a hearty, youthful laugh. Her teeth were pearly white. Then she rubbed her wet cheeks, black smearing over yet. She imagined what her mother would have said seeing her with such appearance, and that made her laugh even more.

- Anything, Adolf Schäffer? – she laughed again - Very good. I will leave the Island at the hands of my servers. Take all your men, here they won't be longer necessary. We will go and find out what ails my daughter. I learned that she's into the worship of that dark goddess so adored by Gertrude. I won't let her go, she's very valuable and she's still my daughter. But first...

She walked two steps up to him and ran her fingers down his chin. She smiled slyly, so she was almost unrecognizable.

- First, we'll kill them all. One by one. I want to be present at their death. Will you give me this, Schäffer? Perhaps all this will be very different once all is over.

He smiled coldly, took her hand and kissed her fingertips.

- I only live to serve you, Doctor.

(…)

Lara found Marcus sitting on a bench under a tree outside the castle. His face was thrown back so he well received sunlight, ignoring the people who came and went over access to Bran. Seeing him, she became aware of how fragile he was, it just was nothing left of him, so skinny, gaunt and aged. The clothes given to him by Ivanoff were enormous for him. In a way, his serene and resigned old age reminded her of Winston, but her faithful butler nobody had never been locked up or starved for months.

- I know that the words of my report bothered you.- he said without opening his eyes, when he barely felt her close – It was long ago when I wrote that and I still know so little about him as I showed in my report. No one really knows enough about him, not even Marie, who has been with him longer than anyone else. So I assume that I can be wrong and I can even misjudge him, but facts are facts.

- What about that note at the end?

- Note?

- The one that's stained with blood.

Marcus opened his eyes and looked surprised.

- No, daughter, there is no bloodstained note. What are you talking about?

Lara shook the sheet before his eyes.

- There is a bloodstained note at the end of your report, small and wrinkled. It seems written by Kurtis himself, but it doesn't make sense, because what he's telling in it happened far away from your cell and... and the situation in which he was would have prevented him from writing.

The old man's eyes narrowed.

- Show me.

Lara handed it to him. As soon as he saw it, Marcus turned pale and caught it with his fingertips, as if the paper burned. Then he read it hastily, his dry lips moving rapidly, and suddenly she stood up, upset.

- Where was this?

- I've already told you. - Lara patiently answered - In the manuscript.

- I haven't got it here! I swear this by the Light's sake! This...

Suddenly he started walking as fast as he could, towards the castle. Lara followed him:

- Marcus, what do you do?

The old man didn't reply. Determined not to be angry with him, she followed him to the Ivanoff's study, where it was the fireplace. Passing next to the professor, who was engaged in the reading of various manuscripts, he came to the fireplace.

- Marcus, no!

She jumped towards him, but was too late. The old man had thrown the note into the fire, and stared at the flames.

- What are you doing? - she said, annoyed - Why the hell did you burn...?

Marcus was speechless when he told her, with a sudden movement, to look into the flames.

The note, which should be consumed, trembled and twitched in the fire, as if it were palpitating viscera. Horrified, she leaned even closer and she thought she heard a sort of groan, a soft gurgling, like a repressed sob.

- What's that? – they heard Vlad, who was behind them, adjusting his glasses - God! This thing is alive!

After a couple of crackles, the paper burst into flames and a sickening smell of burning flesh filled the room. Lara held an arcade. With a stumble, Ivanoff ran to open the window.

Marcus, livid, drew a curious symbol in the air, and muttered a phrase in Latin. Then he translated:

- May the Light free us from Evil, to each and every one of us.

- What was that, Marcus? - muttered Lara, who, dizzy, had dropped into a chair.

- It wasn't a note, Lara, and it's clear that whoever put it there don't want any good to us. – he shuddered and turned to draw the symbol. It seemed that was crossed herself - We must tell Kurtis soon about this. We all are in danger, and he more than any other.

(…)

Magdalena slipped her fingers under the hard lid and pulled it. A snap confirmed she had broken a fingernail, but paid no attention. What the hell cared a nail? She took another pull and flipped the lid, leaving the mouth of the well exposed.

It was late afternoon and the castle was closed to visitors. Maddalena, sick of shadows because of so much wandering like a lost soul, had begun to delve into the well. She was surprised to find no water, since bending only saw blackness accompanied by a blast of stale air.

- Be careful. There's a drop of several meters. - told Kurtis' voice, a few feet away.

The redhead pulled up her head and smiled bitterly.

- And who cares if I fall across this?

- Well - he said, shrugging. He was leaning on a column in the courtyard – It doesn't make sense if you threw yourself to the well. Two years ago I was down there, and there are only stinking alleys and a torture chamber. Remember that this was owned by Vlad Tepes.

Magdalena sighed and nibbled her broken nail.

- You've changed a lot since I met you. - he said then.

- You mean that I no longer behave like a whore. - she said, and before he could answer, she continued - No, the truth is I'm tired of it. Long ago I was sick of that, but neither I didn't want to admit it, nor have the value to change. I'd give anything to go back and start again.

_I'm sure then I would be something different for you_, she said quietly, still watching him. Kurtis said:

- You risked too much by going to the Island. Why?

- And you ask that to me? - she smiled, and thinking _what the hell_, she said - It was for you. I stole the documents from Montoleone because I believed they were valuable and someone could ask me for them. That Bathsheba... well, I thought she would be interested and...

- I'm sorry you risked so much. You could have lost your life. Especially since what you ask to me, Giulia, I can't give you.

She put her hands on the pit and looked at them. She trembled.

- Why do you have to be someone so wonderful? – she murmured in a broken voice - Rejecting me that way only gets I fell in love with you even more.

She heard him laugh softly, but she didn't look up. It didn't matter. She had lost the little dignity she had left.

- I'm afraid to disappoint you, but I'm not wonderful at all. I'm a despicable being. What you love is nothing but the shadow of an illusion.

- Is that also what you said to Lara?

He didn't answer. Slowly she looked up and saw him looking at her with a frown. Somehow, her comment had hurt him.

- I can't believe you. – she was quick to say - Sciarra was a despicable being. Monteleone was a despicable being. All his followers, all this rabble who tortures and kills on the Island, are despicable beings. I see nothing in you that makes me think you're despicable.

- Not anything that makes you think I'm wonderful. You don't know nothing about me, Giulia. You're suffering in vain.

- But I love you. - she murmured, blushing - I'd rather suffering like this than being again the so hateful and mean being I was before.

Suddenly, she departed from the well and went towards him, which didn't move. Having her so close, he saw her face without the makeup she had worn when she was still with the Sicilian capo, her pink lips, her amber eyes, the rain of golden freckles covering her nose and that wonderful red hair which haloed her face.

- Is it because I'm a whore?

- Don't be ridiculous. You'll stop being a whore at the time you want. And although you remained being so, I won't be rejecting you because of that.

- So this is because of her. Have you loved her from the beginning, right? What has her I haven't?

- I won't talk about Lara with you, Giulia. It would only make you feel worse. You're tormenting yourself for nonsense. You deserve someone better than me.

- But I love you...

Kurtis stopped the hand that was about to stroke his face and pushed her away with a sigh. She almost would have preferred that he shoved and hit her.

- Do you always reject all women like this?

- You're wrong with me again. I'm not a heartbreaker. Nor I have a legion of women desperate for me. I'm telling you judge me wrong...

- Kurtis!

They turned, startled. Marcus was in the doorway of the courtyard. At his side was Lara, who seeing Maddalena frowned.

- We need to talk to you. It's urgent.

(…)

For some reason, Marcus preferred Lara to tell him of that note, if such could be called. She chose not to mention Marcus' report and merely mentioned the existence of a paper that seemed to convey his thoughts in that short time he had been dying because of the mutated body of Kristina Boaz before Minos and the other brothers found him.

Kurtis listened to her with a frown and shook his head. Exasperated by his astonishing serenity, Marcus jumped out:

- You know what this means, right? A demon had access to your mind and has been using your memories. You know the risk you run, we all run now because of you?

- I guess I was pretty vulnerable while being a prisoner. - Kurtis said calmly – They're always lurking. I would be surprised they haven't take advantage of this golden opportunity.

- But what that note said was true? - Lara jumped.

Kurtis looked at her tenderly.

- That's what haunted my mind as I bled. I'd almost forgotten. - Annoyed, he shook his hand. - But who cares about that now.

- What can pretend that demon? - Lara turned towards Marcus - Is Bathsheba?

- I don't imagine her using that. - added the old man - I know her a lot, as I know her father. They both loved being my jailers. She's too delicate, too subtle, to resort to such macabre details. There has been another entity which has manifested through the note.

- Lilith?

Marcus turned pale on hearing that name.

- Don't pronounce the name of that impure... devil! She's asleep, unlikely to wake up and we want to her remain so. I'm afraid...

- I know what can be. - a voice said.

All three turned. With the nails sunk in the doorway, Marie watched them anxiously. She walked up to them, and her haggard look scared Lara. She was beside herself.

- It's the Voice in the Dark.

(…)

Maddalena was left alone in the yard. She was clinging to the column where Kurtis had been reclined. Her soft breasts, her tender belly, pressed against the stone, looking for some other's heat in it. The porous rock stroked her cheek.

At first, she heard the soft hum. Then she thought it was some kind of a gust of wind blowing in through a narrow place. Only when the wind stopped blowing in the yard, she realized that what she was hearing was a whining voice.

She separated her face from the column and looked around, stunned. She felt her hair bristling when she perceived that the groan came out of the well.

The black aperture was transmitting, by a resounding echo, what looked like a woman crying. A strange sob choking with sighs. The legs failed to her, she crossed herself at full speed, and found her touching this strange Indian charm she found in a truck in Turkey, which was hidden between her breasts, with the feathers brushing her soft skin. Although perhaps that pagan symbol wouldn't be able to protect her so much...

_Don't be stupid_, she reprimanded herself, ashamed of her cowardice, and forced herself to walk towards the well, although her legs were shaking.

The crying grew louder when she looked into the dark abyss, but saw only blackness.

- Is there... anyone there? – she stammered.

The groans were cut sharply, and when she was going to retire, she heard a soft whisper in the background.

- Excuse me? – she muttered, shaking like a leaf – I c-can't... can't hear you! Need Help?

The whisper grew louder, and she began to capture fragments of words.

_... two ... ... blood shed ... Mother ..._

Maddalena gave a gasp and covered her mouth. _Saint Lucy, protect me!_

_... __seven ... __bitt ... ath_

The whisper was rising in volume. She couldn't deviate from the edge of the pit, she was like petrified.

_Warrio... zonian ... pure ... Wis ... cent ... Angel ... hide ..._

- Angel? - she said - Did you say you're an angel?

_Voice ... Darkness ..._

She tried to pull away, but it was as if her legs would not obey her, as if she had her arms glued to the rim of the pot.

_... redempt ... Goddess ... ineffab... light ... deadly ..._

Her eyes widened in horror. She distinguished the form of a creature that rose clinging to the walls of the pit, its head bobbing on the neck and empty eyes staring at her, with a haggard smile.

Maddalena wanted to scream. She wanted to run away. But she couldn't do anything. She remained wedded to the well until the thing came to her and sank its fingers into her chest.

(…)

A piercing scream tore the air. Almost in unison, Lara and Kurtis jumped to the door, pushing Marie, and went into the corridor of the cloister.

In a column on the top floor, Radha, clinging to a pillar, was looking onto the courtyard with wide eyes and her mouth distorted, while with a trembling finger pointed down.

Lara looked at the edge of the window and what she saw made her scream.

Maddalena was lying on the floor, face up, legs open and hair scattered on the floor slabs. With a convulsive hand, she tore off the front of the dress as she arched her back, letting out blood curdling screams.

Between her breasts she had a bloody mark like the imprint of a hand. Lara soon found out that was a kind of burn, and the blood bubbled and gurgled as the screams that came from the mouth of the prostitute tore her ears. With visceral momentum, she scraped her chest and breasts, tearing the flesh, as if trying to pull that hand away from her skin.

Her eyes went blank and her mouth was foaming.

- Come here, pretty. – she heard Marie muttering, surrounding Radha with her arms and taking her gently away from there - Don't look at that. Come with me.

Who couldn't be impressed by _that?_ Lara was petrified with horror.

The fight didn't last long. Maddalena gradually ceased struggling and remained rigid, stretched on the floor with her breasts shaking and beating the mark on her skin. Suddenly, she turned her eyes and stared at Lara. She recoiled instinctively.

Maddalena incorporated into a sitting position, and then, displaying a smile out of joint, she pointed towards her with her index finger.

- You! – she gurgled with a voice that was _not_ hers – Your head will go down, you, proud! Within three days; remember: within three days, I'll give what you deserve!

Kurtis grabbed Lara away from the view of Maddalena.

- Don't look at her! – he whispered in her ear - Don't look at her eyes, don't listen what she says!

As in a vision, Lara saw how Kurtis and Marcus hurried off and placed around Maddalena, as one who gropes a wild beast. But she did nothing more. She returned to rest and began to chant, with her ghastly smile, in a language she didn't know, she never would have heard from any human on Earth.

(…)

- Are you saying that she's possessed? - Selma whispered, horrified.

- Seems so. - Lara said - Kurtis and Marcus have locked her in a bedroom. She hasn't tried to attack, but she wanders from side to side singing a litany in Nephilim language, and laughs alone. She also threatened me and told me that in three days she would give me a lesson.

The Turkish girl shuddered.

At that moment they heard voices in the hallway. She hurried to look out. The two Lux Veritatis were arguing.

- I won't hurt her, do you hear? - Kurtis said - That's what that thing wants! There must be another way to get _that_ out of her.

- It's up to you to tell me what to do, boy? - Marcus jumped, offended – As far as I know, casting out demons is a Healer's job!

- Marcus, we are in the XXI century, in case you didn't know, it's absolutely useless to anyone burn someone with hot irons or try to suffocate! You're doing harm to the body of the possessed person, not the entity that owns it!

- With your moral objections, my son, the poor abbot of Meteora has been struggling in vain and he's approaching his death! I won't let the same thing happens to this poor girl!

Hawking, Lara moved ahead.

- I don't want to get into things that I don't understand, but... have you tried to talk to her?

Marcus lowered his head, and Kurtis sighed and ran his hand across his forehead. He had dark circles under his eyes again. The last two nights had been sleepless beside Lara.

- She just wants to talk to you. She won't talk to anyone else, daughter. - Marcus said.

- With me? - Lara muttered.

- I won't let her to see Lara. - Kurtis returned to the fray – Don't you see? She has cursed her. I won't let that thing to hurt her.

- Son, we can't confine her until the Day of Judgement!

- Okay, let's burn her in a fire as you propose!

- I don't propose...!

- _Enough!_

Lara's scream echoed through the walls. In the next room, a startled Zip took off the headphones and looked out.

Lara took a deep breath and put her hands to her temples. Again she had nausea.

- You're not well. - Kurtis then said, staring at her - I think you're sick.

_Not exactly sick_, thought Lara, and smiled.

- I'll talk to her. – she said.

- No.

- She has already cursed me, right? Let's see what she wants. Otherwise, she'll catch me off guard.

Marcus nodded in approval, astonished at her resolution. Kurtis's eyes, however, gave her a quite different impression.

(…)

- Here are. - Schäffer deposited on the table the report sheet – They are in Romania, in Brasov, and currently living in the castle called of Bran.

Giselle nodded.

- From what I could find out from Rouzic before he died, this is where Vladimir Ivanoff used to lvie, who has been serving them as an investigator.

She got up and walked to the window. A week ago they occupied two adjoining rooms at the hotel in Athens, a city that had been chosen to carry out the first feelers in search of their victims. Schäffer was good at his job and they were soon located.

- Tomorrow we will go there. - concluded the doctor, touching the cold glass with the fingertips. - Have you sent your men there?

- As you ordered, Giselle.

- I've been thinking. It's better not to intervene unless necessary. I want something clean. We will deal with them, you and me personally.

Schäffer smiled. He liked the way she thought. At the end of the day, the only failure of Gunderson, besides his own arrogance, had been attracting too much attention with his men. He preferred discretion.

- As you order. – he said.

She nodded and looked out the window. She noted that he approached her from behind and the next thing she felt was his breath in the ear. He took a lock of blond hair and watched at it, fascinated.

- Leave me alone. - she whispered laconic.

- There is a wealth of women who have their hair dyed in order to have this blond. - he observed. Then his lips went to his ear and hissed - When was the last time you were with a man?

She turned quickly and slapped him. He, far from being offended, laughed and grabbed her by the wrists.

- You're like a kitten. - he said, laughing - Let me give you a wonderful favor.

- Let me go! - she whispered with the same apathy.

Ignoring her, he gently pulled and pushed her towards the couch. He forced her to lie still smiling sarcastically.

- I'll scream. - she warned, though still without resistance.

- You offended me, my dear. - mocked him - If you get disappointed, you can slap me again. But I doubt it. I'm pretty good, surely.

She looked at him and turned her face from him. Some strands of hair covered her face. She let him unbuttoning her blouse and down her stockings. She had no interest in resisting. She didn't care at all. She was dead inside.

- I would never force you. - Schäffer whispered in her ear when he was over her - This happens because you want to.

- I don't love you.

- Ah, but you'll love me. At this moment I really don't care, I'm content to have you.

She let him to make love to her with passivity, and the truth was that the experience wasn't unpleasant in any way.

And though he noticed she seemed to dream that was another who was with her (and he knew _what_ _one_ was) he didn't care. When finished, he made a mocking bow and left the room.

She, half naked, spent hours staring at the ceiling.

(…)

It was funny, but the Maddalena who was sitting at the stool next to the window was more like the brazen prostitute who had first seen with Monteleone. Seeing her, she smiled and leaned blatantly against the wall. Her open neckline showed the birth of her sinuses and that handprint which looked like a bloody rash.

- Lara, Lara Croft. - sang with a voice that was not hers – Amazonian and slayer of immortals. – She looked at Kurtis, who was with her - Could you leave us alone?

- No.

She smiled and shrugged.

- Do what you want... you can't protect her from me.

- Who are you? - Lara began, sitting opposite her.

- I am the Voice In The Dark.

- Why have you taken over Maddalena?

She playfully leaned on the sill of the window and began to roll a silky red lock on the index finger.

- She's perfect for me. She has a beautiful young body, and she's full of love and hate. Love and hate are what moves the world, so she's perfect for me.

- You have to leave her alone.

She arched her fine eyebrows and looked at Kurtis.

- Why? She's just a whore... and the man she loves has neglected her, haven't you, Warrior? She doesn't suffer. She's not hurt. She's happier like this, rather than being aware that she's being handed, or being victim of an ungrateful's contempt.

- Why do you call yourself the Voice In The Dark? - Lara cut, deciding to ignore the previous comment.

- Because I'm the messenger of Lilith. I'm Her voice, Her mouth. I convey Her message and I have come to announce your end.

- Are you a woman?

- Those who dwell with the Mother have no sex. I am the Voice.

She closed her eyes and recited:

- _Although two will go to shed their blood at the foot of the Great Mother, it will be seven transiting the Bitter Path: the Warrior and the Amazonian, the Impure and the Innocent, the Wise and the Angel, and also the Hidden. This has told the Voice in the Darkness: among the two who shed their blood, only one could be redeemed, and he'll redeemed by the will of the Goddess. But woe to them if they don't satisfy the Ineffable: none of them will again see the light of mortals._

- That's already told us Selma. She heard from the mouth of the devil that's inside the abbot of Meteora.

- Then you know that you have been chosen to go in second place, right? - mocked her, and looked at Kurtis – He's the first, hence he can't do anything for you.

She moved forward a bit to look more closely at Lara. Her hair slipped over her shoulders and hid her face partly.

- You have the Angel of Death upon you. When before you go to meet the Mother, before all this will end.

- Is the only way to stop her?

Maddalena (or the being within her) threw her head back and laughed.

- Ignorant! How will you be able to destroy the Great Mother, who can crush you with just Her presence?

Lara stood on the seat.

- We won't enter into a game we don't know the rules or the reasons.

- You will do it whether you like it or not. Otherwise, you will pay the highest price. And you, woman, will be the first of all.

Then Kurtis took Lara's arm and made her rise.

- Enough. You'll get nothing from her. She may confuse you for hours.

Maddalena went up sharply. Kurtis instinctively stepped between her and Lara and held her:

- It's Lilith who speaks to you, you vain! Keep making fun of Her! You will regret it!

- I don't know what you mean. - Lara said quietly.

The redhead struggled in the arms of Kurtis, who firmly and abruptly forced her to retreat.

- I warned you. The Voragine claims you, you first. Pray that it finds you before the Angel of Death does!

- If you've already said what you meant - Lara said, undauted - leave Maddalena alone.

- why? - she smiled sarcastically - Then who would guide you? – she looked sensually looked at Kurtis and said - I've been waiting for this moment for centuries. Now we can say that it really gets good.

As she had stopped struggling, Kurtis let her go. She smiled, winked and leaned back shamelessly in the chair, humming to herself.

- I'll make you come out by force. - then told Kurtis.

- You can do nothing against me. I'm the Mother's lieutenant. The creatures you defeated since you learned to kill are like babies to me. And whatever you do to me - she whispered – all the damage will affect Giulia Manfredi. You'll bruise her body and leave me untouched. Although, of course - she said, leaning back - if you want to make love to me, I won't refuse. I have curiosity to feel what you mortals feel, and something tells me that Giulia would be more than pleased.

Lara had heard enough. She left the room and went downstairs.

- Lara!

She didn't turn.

- Don't be upset...

- Please don't be so gallant. - she said, wincing - What that thing may say can't bother me. Although I was _delighted_ to learn that the bitch had been courting you...

- That's the least of our problems now, Lara.

She turned and looked at him this time from the lower end of the ladder.

- I know. I have to talk to Zip and Vlad. It's time to face our problems. You remember that thanks to Cardinal Monteleone's texts we found that the location of the Voragine's entry was in...

- ... Syria. - Kurtis concluded, going towards her. - And knowing you, you want to go there soon.

- Now you're recovered, of course.

He shook his head.

- Not the way to do it, Lara.

- We can't sit waiting to happen God knows what!

Kurtis smiled. He walked up to her and gently took her by the shoulders.

- So far, everything I've done it your way. It's time we do it to mine. Sorry you're stuck in this, but since you are, you know your rules and ways of doing no good for this. It's... a different world.

- Good. What do you suggest?

(…)

_No, no please. Let me go..._

_You have to. It's necessary. She must know, she must be forced._

_Tell your followers to force her. I'm tired._

_Giulia, Giulia, beautiful Giulia... you're my miracle, my executor hand._

_I won't do such thing._

_But you hate her. You really hate her. You heard her moaning at night, when he makes love with her. You have desired to kill her a thousand and one times._

_Not like this. Not that way. I can't... I can't._

_If you do, I'll promise he will be yours, in body and soul. He will be yours, once she's gone._

_You don't understand ... he will never love me if I kill the one he loves._

_Oh, well then you must say I forced you to. Because I force you to. You have no choice._

_No, please ... not like this..._

_It's time to stop being the victim, my beautiful Giulia. Now it's time the others pay for what have done to you. I'll raise the dead from their graves and make them bow at your feet. I'll have Giacomo Sciarra crawling before you. I'll cause Daniele Monteleone to kiss your feet. You will see the Lux Veritatis on his knees, begging you desperately to love him._

_I don't want ... no..._

_..._

_Please..._

_..._

_Not like this..._

_..._

_Somebody help me ... oh my God, somebody help me..._


	36. Chapter 35: The Angel of Death

**Chapter 35: The Angel of Death**

It was midnight. Giselle slept naked in her bed after having been "visited" by her faithful servant again. Unlike last time, this time he hadn't shown himself blatant and insistent, but had waited patiently for her to take him back into bed. She had nothing to lose, but reminded him that she was still his boss and those permissions and intimacies didn't change anything about their previous relationship.

Schäffer, of course, had no objection to it, and even seemed to enjoy his strange situation of sexual servant; which on the other hand he had led to. At the time he retired, she fell asleep and had spent about two hours when she woke up, beset by the feeling that someone was in her room. When reached over and turned on the light, she found herself in front of her daughter.

Bathsheba was sitting in a chair beside the bed, very upright among Giselle's clothes hanging on the chair and scattered on the carpet. Her hands rested on her knees together and she was wearing her white cloak, with her hair spread on the fallen hood.

- You scared me. - Giselle said, covering herself with a blanket.

- _What_ are you doing? - murmured Bathsheba with indolent tone, arching her fine eyebrows in an expression otherwise expressionless.

- What do you mean? - Giselle rubbed her eyes sleepily.

The Nephilim woman sighed, as urged to take all the patience in the world, and then said softly:

- You left your research on the Island, to romp with that visceral gross visceral from hotel to hotel, while a kind of frame multiple murder. What do you think you're doing?

She seemed slightly, only _slightly_ irritated. Giselle dropped the blanket over her lap and touched the head of the bed in search of a pack of cigarettes. She took her time to pick one up, turn it on, give it a couple of puffs and rest again on the head, while Bathsheba stared at her.

- I'm really flattered. - said the Doctor, passing a line of smoke. - My daughter is worth worrying about me.

- I'm not in the mood, _mother_. - Bathsheba hissed, stressing the last word to make it sound cold and unnatural.

- Well, learn from your father. - Giselle replied - He had patience to the end and he had lived since the dawn of time. And don't you ever speak to me in that tone. Nephilim or not, you're here for I have created you.

She drove another puff of smoke, feeling pleased with herself, while Bathsheba waited in silence.

- I thought - finally the doctor said - you didn't care about my experiments, you didn't care if I did them or not. And behold, I have just left them, and then you went so upset to see what happens to me. I should have done before.

- Don't make a mistake. – intervened the beautiful one – I'm worried because you're crazy. What you're doing is absurd. And it doesn't suit to my purposes.

Giselle stood as if she had been stuck, showing her small and pink breasts.

- _Your purposes!_ – she spit - I'm sick of your purposes! Ungrateful ignorant! Who gave you life, who raised you? But you turn your back to me as if you're ashamed of me. You initiated yourself into the cult of that hellish goddess and forget everything you owe to me!

With a sudden movement, she crushed the cigarette in an ashtray on the bedside table. Bathsheba was looking at her coldly.

- You're absolutely crazy. – she repeated quietly – You can just think of your mindless vengeance. The death of all of them will change _nothing_.

- I think that's enough. - Giselle sighed, distraught - You mean you're going to keep me from killing those bastards? Those who murdered your father, those collaborated with them? On what side are you, Bathsheba?

- On my own.

Giselle sighed, and reached out to caress her daughter's arm.

- That's what you can't understand, my beautiful Bathsheba. Your side is also mine. I've always been with you. Why have you gone away from me?

She tilted her head gently.

- Lilith, the mother of all Nephilim, has revealed to me. I know you don't believe in Her, but I assure you She gave birth to my father and he saw Her as I'm see now Her myself, as you're now watching at me, as Gertrude, Her priestess, saw Her. She told me that if I offer in sacrifice the Lux Veritatis and his lover at the altar of the Voragine, She will destroy the Periapt Shards, so nothing can hurt me and so I will be immortal and invincible as Karel never reached to be.

Giselle watched at her, stunned.

- So that's why you allowed them to escape from the Island?

Bathsheba simply nodded.

- So this Lilith can... break that glass?

- She created them, She can destroy them.

The doctor leaned back.

- Now I understand many things. Should have told me before.

- It was the will of the Great Goddess. Now you know. Refrain from touching a hair of the three, because they belong to me.

- Three? Who is the third?

- The Amazonian is pregnant. What better sacrifice to the Queen of the Voragine than sacrifice the strongest Lux Veritatis ever existed and his unborn child.

Giselle laughed. She buried her face in the pillow and went on laughing with delight.

- Asks that goddess to let me see it.

- You crazy. - Bathsheba repeated again, and rose from the chair – It's not an act of revenge. I do this because She ordered me to. Otherwise, I had let you to slay the Lux Veritatis the way you most pleased, beyond the Island, and I would have forgotten about the Amazonian and her son, so long as she neither involved the least threat to me.

Seeing that Bathsheba indented to leave, Giselle got up and took her daughter's arm.

- Don't go, Bathsheba. We were so united before. But since you went to Meteora, you're different. Stay with me.

- I can't, I don't.

- You just ask what I was doing. Well, my daughter, _what the hell are you doing?_

- I haven't to answer for your questions, but since I still appreciate you I will. - chimed Bathsheba – I'm under orders of the Mother, and I'm so busy.

- What commands to you that dark Lilith? What's more important than our projects? Why didn't you get rid of those and…?

- I'll do as She provides. I can't tell you anything else. Goodbye, mother.

- Bathsheba!

The doctor held out her arms, but her fingers grasped only air. She stood motionless for a moment, and then dropped her arms.

- Mother...

There had been no cold sarcasm in that last word. That somehow encouraged her. Bathsheba hadn't left completely her cause. As soon as that she forgot her obsession with that bloody Lilith...

Well. Her visit had been a warning.

She must touch neither Lara nor Kurtis.

But ... had she said something about the others?

(…)

Zip leaned back in his chair, puffed a huge bubble gum and blew it up loud. Lara glared at him.

- When Zip decides to stop clowning, we'll begin.

Selma took a sharp elbow to his companion, and he was repositioned in the chair.

- Well, - continued Lara, casting her eyes by all present - Kurtis and I have been discussing what to do, and have come to some conclusion but, of course, I would like to know your opinion about it, since you are also somewhat affected.

At that point, Kurtis took the word.

- Giulia is irrecoverable at the moment, but out of danger. The spirit that occupies her is not causing harm, as doesn't happen with the abbot of Meteora. Since at the moment we can't force it to abandon her body...

- Yes, we can. - Marcus growled softly.

- ... and I _don't_ approve of the methods that Marcus suggested for this - Kurtis was now looking askance at him - because that would only cause pain to Giulia, we will have to go our own way before the picture gets worse, and it can get worse so much.

"Although in principle I disagreed with Lara, it seems that there's no choice. We'll soon go to Syria."

Ivanoff winced and Selma gasped.

- To Syria! – it was Marie who spoke – To Syria! Say rather _to the Voragine!_

- Indeed. - granted Lara.

There was a snort of contempt, and saw Marcus shook his head.

- Dear friends, you're crazy. It's not you who came to the Voragine; is the Voragine which cames to you. Do you really expect to go to Syria and find a hole in a lost place that lead you to an underground world with lava flows and devils with horns?

- Of course not. - stressed Lara - Although I this is not entirely clear for me, it appears that the Voragine is a mindset, a parallel world, another dimension that's not present on Earth, but it's easier to reach it from the Syria area elsewhere.

- No one has ever been so foolish as to try to go there. You won't live more than five seconds. - Marie turned her gaze to her son - Kurtis, please! So little you care about her? You know you both are going to die!

- We have no choice. - he said calmly. - Terrible things are coming. I feel it. I'm not even able to discern what they are. We must act. It's better than sit and wait for the catastrophe.

The woman stood up, furious, from her seat.

- What are you going to do there, you miserable? Are you going to the very nose of Satan and ask him to leave you alone? Are you trying to negotiate with His spouse? That's assuming you attain to cross the threshold!

A mild cough interrupted her. Ivanoff was adjusting his glasses.

- Well, Marie, let's be objective. There is a prophecy...

- Demons lie or tell the truth as it suits them. - cut Marie, and told Kurtis - You know this better than anyone else!

He refused to get nervous.

- The Voice In The Darkness is not a demon either. It doesn't act like a demon of low status. It's Lilith's right hand. She wouldn't have it to come here to release lies.

- As I said - Ivanoff continued, clearing his throat again – there's a prophecy in which apparently we're all packed. A Wise, an Angel, a Warrior and an Amazonian, A Hidden, an Innocent and an Impure...

He felt his pocket and pulled out a crumpled paper.

- As you know, recently I've been talking to some of you, except for Lara and Kurtis, obviously, since they can't be other than the Amazonian and the Warrior, respectively. And I have come to some conclusions and probabilities.

- Vlad - Selma chimed softly – those are just guesses. It may not refer exclusively to people around us.

- Of course, dear. - he said patting her hand with affection - But I'm so sick of being so useless. Let me show off a little.

He coughed again, adjusted his glasses on the bridge of the nose and repositioned himself in the chair. Everyone watched him in silence, and Lara smiled with fun.

- Consider the prophecy. _Although two will go to shed their blood at the foot of the Great Mother_, this part is pretty nasty, since it says two people will die in the presence or by the hand of Lilith, as the Great Mother's attribute is applicable to many old goddesses and this is no exception_, it will be seven transiting the Bitter Path_; it's clear, right? Seven people are going to go through this, and Bitter Path is the nickname of a very hard experience, probably in the Voragine... _the Warrior and the Amazonian_, well, one must be an idiot if not figuring this out. Long before this prophecy these names were given to our two colleagues here. There's no other Amazonian on the face of the Earth today, and her Warrior partner can't be other than you, friend. _The Impure and the Innocent_... here I came across the first wall of bricks. But I think the Impure could be our friend Giulia, given her previous activities to...

- It seems contemptuous of you. - Kurtis cut, irritated. – That Giulia has been a prostitute means nothing to those beings that stains their hands with blood daily. In addition, she's now the recipient of the prophetic spirit.

Ivanoff shrugged.

- I just theorize, friend. Well, moving on. _The Wise_, then, sorry if I'm being cocky, but there are at least four chances of Wise. First, brother Marcus, last Healer and guardian of a great legacy that Kurtis wouldn't accept; Marie, who is a descendant of an indigenous matriarchal people of great wisdom and knows everything about plants, cures and primary care; Selma, who is an expert in Semitic mythology and culture, and lastly this humble servant, who is a professor. So the issue of the Wise is quite complex.

He cleared his throat again and continued.

- _The Angel_. I have my reasons for asserting that this refers to Lady Bathsheba.

Lara laughed.

- It's absurd for anyone to make Bathsheba going through any Bitter Path. That bitch will feel like at home in the Voragine.

- Well, as you want, dear. _The Innocent_ is Radha, no doubt.

The Indian teenager, who was near the window, lifted her face to hear her name and looked stunned at the group of people discussing in a language she didn't understand.

Lara was shocked.

- Radha! I think you're wrong, Vlad. What's about Radha with this? It's just a girl!

- And _the Hidden_. - continued Vlad – Here I have to surrender. I have not the foggiest idea. _This has told the Voice in the Darkness: among the two who shed their blood, only one could be redeemed, and he'll redeemed by the will of the Goddess. But woe to them if they don't satisfy the Ineffable: none of them will again see the light of mortals_. Clearly, among the two who will die, one can be saved if it pleases to Lilith. But how to please the Ineffable? Another great mystery.

He folded the paper again and removed his glasses.

- As you see, I have not advanced much. I doubt everything except Lara and Kurtis. Too many chances for the Wise, and you are not agreeing about the others. But I maintain that it's appropriate to go to Syria, not just you two, but all of us.

Marcus and Marie declined in unison.

- It's nonsense. - broke in the elder - Excuse me, but you don't know even what you're talking about. It's a collective suicide. I don't approve such thing.

Lara went around the table. Above this, there was a full glass of water. She put her lips on it and sipped.

- Marcus - said, placing the glass on the table - we have to do something. Otherwise, the situation gets out of hand.

- Don't know what may be up to Bathsheba - continued Kurtis - or what the Cabal may be trying now, much less what to expect from...

Suddenly, Lara felt bad. She stopped paying attention to Kurtis' words and put her hands to her temples, which suddenly ached as if they were being crushed with iron tongs. She felt a bitter taste in the mouth. She glanced at the glass and then she understood.

She cried with rage.

- Lara! - cried Selma, which had been the first to see her - What happens?

All were silent and stared at her. Kurtis grabbed her arm so hard she thought he was going to tear it. She didn't realize she was falling to the ground and he tried to hold her. She gripped the table and took three steps towards the door.

A cry of horror pierced the air. It was Radha. Only she could scream so acute. When she looked down and saw a dark stain spreading on her pants legs down, feeling like a sea of warm fluid flowing from her.

Mary stood by her side, trying to hold her, but she got rid of her arms, threw herself against the door and opened it, and threw herself into the center of the courtyard.

Maddalena was on top of the stairs, watching her with a cold smile.

Lara fell on the flagstones of the courtyard, while the blood ran under her. Not even heard someone (was it Selma?) groaning in horror:

- Pregnant! She's pregnant!

_I warned you_, whispered Maddalena's coralline lips, but it was the Voice who spoke for her.

She fainted.

(…)

_Bathsheba looked at her from above. She had never realized how tall she was._

_Bitch! Get out of here!_

_She felt another spasm and screamed. She was lying in a pool of blood._

_Go away! Damn you, this is your entire fault!_

_Don't look at me. I don't have poisoned you. I haven't caused this abortion._

_Outta here. Leave me alone. Are you happy now, bitch?_

_I have come to offer you an exchange, Lara, but you must hurry. I can save your child. But you must give me something in return._

_Get out. I hate you. Get out._

_Tell me where the Three Shards are hidden._

_You know, damn you. You know everything when you want. Get out, get them and cut your throat with them._

_Your lover has been very clever. Not only has surrounded his mind with a barrier that I can't penetrate, but yours too. And both he and you're the only ones who know where they are._

_Another contraction. And the horrible feeling of being bled, of being let out, to die, the life that..._

_Your son will die, Lara. So little do you care? Oh, if even his father didn't know!_

_Shut up!_

_The Shards, Lara! Now or never!_

_Lara closed her eyes for not to see her, and defeated, confessed where she had hidden them all the time, since Selma and Marie had given her the other two._

_Bathsheba smiled. How beautiful she was._

_Thank you, Lara. I knew you'd be sensible. Now it's my turn._

_She leaned over her and applied her soft lips on her forehead. Lara tried to repel those arms around her, but had no strength to resist._

_Again darkness came..._

(…)

Maddalena's body, which she no longer controlled, turned and walked back towards the hallway to her bedroom where she had been locked up and where she had gotten out. She walked unhurriedly, calmly, her hands crossed on her chest and feeling the soft touch of the white nightgown on the bare ankles, oblivious to the cries and other signs of drama leaving behind her and that she had caused.

Quietly, she closed the door, cutting Radha's sharp screams and sitting at her baroque dressing table, she began to brush sparingly her beautiful hair.

Looking up, she saw Bathsheba's face in the mirror. She was behind her, but she didn't turn. She looked her through the glass.

- Are you who is called the Voice In The Darkness? – the Nephilim inquired sharply.

- I am. – she said while brushing her hair.

Bathsheba's pale cheeks were stained with flushing, as always in a rage.

- Do you realize what you've done?

- Of course. - calmly broke in the Voice - I have given a lesson in humility to that stupid smug. I am the Voice of the Great Goddess. No one is laughing at me, let alone a dirty mortal.

Bathsheba's long fingers were driven into the velvet back of the chair.

- And you name yourself Lilith's handmaid? – she snapped - Did you know that both Amazonian and her child should be sacrificed to Her in Her altar and not before in any other way?

The Voice turned and smiled.

- Sure, Lady. Do you take me for a fool? I knew you'd rush to repair the harm. The important thing is that from now this bitch will think twice before underestimate us all. And you can be sure that I have the blessing of the Mother, who wanted to test your speed and efficiency.

- Your game has been too dangerous. - hissed Bathsheba – I could not have come in time.

- You underestimate yourself, Lady. - the Voice mocked, turning back to the mirror - Rather give me thanks for the opportunity to find out where that bitch hid the Shards.

But Bathsheba said nothing. She looked up, looked at the door and whispered before disappearing:

- He comes after you.

The door opened wide with a brutal blow. Who appeared behind it, his face flushed with rage, was Kurtis. Without saying anything, he pounced on her and taking her by the hair, threw her against the mirror, which broke when her head hit the glass. Maddalena fell sideways, bounced off the dressing table and went to the floor, her nightgown showing her thighs. Kurtis, out of himself, began beating her repeatedly while she made a futile attempt to protect her with her arms.

- Idiot! – she yelled, trying to defend herself from kicks and scratches – Stop this, you useless! Remember that it's Giulia who...!

A punch cut off her breath. Her face slammed back against the floor and clouded her vision, while a burning liquid filled her mouth. She watched, fascinated, how some crimson drops began to spatter the ground.

Another hair pulling forced her to come up and look directly at her attacker. She screamed again, more for anger and humiliation than pain. The pain was Maddalena's, not hers.

He had stopped beating her, but he was holding her by the shoulders and shook her so violently that she thought her teeth were about to fall.

- Are you having fun? - he shouted in her face, alienated - Are you having fun? Bitch! Didn't you have enough with me, destroying my life, my mother, my father, all of us? Curse you! You had to touch _her!_

- Lilith... sent me to punish... that proud... and she has sinned in her pride. – she gurgled as a trickle of blood ran down the corners of her lips. - You may kill Giulia, but you can't kill me.

Another blow forced her back to bite the ground. With a cry of rage, the body convulsed and launched Kurtis back. With a loud yell, Maddalena was free.

He sat up, rubbing his head, dazed, and saw the red-haired girl crawling up the wall and covering her face with her hands while sobbing. Her nightgown was torn and splattered with blood.

Kurtis looked down at his hands, furious with himself, and knelt beside her, who was trembling like a lamb and hadn't even noticed that a wisp of fabric left almost exposed her breast.

What had he done? What had he said? Mad with rage at what had happened to Lara, he had almost killed Maddalena.

Maddalena, who was absolutely innocent. Maddalena, who had left her protector to search him. A Maddalena, who had offered to take his place in the torture chamber.

- Giulia ... – he muttered, embarrassed - Giulia, forgive me. I lost control. I don't...

She uncovered her face. Her lip was wound and had a swollen eye, but what was shining in her eyes was not rancor. She threw herself into his arms and hugged him so hard that he lost his breath.

- Kurtis! – she sobbed - She forced me to... sorry ... the glass ... I didn't want! I didn't know she was expecting a baby!

He shuddered. _I didn't know either, Giulia_. Tears moistened his neck as she wept, pressed against him. On the corner of his eye, he saw Marcus, solemnly watching the scene, and appeared to be satisfied with the expulsion of evil through violence.

_Get out of here_, ordered his eyes, full of remorse. The old man shrugged and walked away.

- Please...! - she was still sobbing - I beg you... don't let them enter again... keep it away from me... please!

- I promise. - he whispered, stroking her beautiful red curls.

The baroque mirror, shattered in pieces, multiplied their embraced figures by thousands.

(…)

Lara slowly opened her eyes, feeling defeated, exhausted.

Sitting at the foot of the bed were Selma and Marie, like two guardian angels who watched her rest. Watching her move, Selma stood on her chair and touched gently Marie on the shoulder.

- How are you? - said the Indian woman, rising and approaching her.

- I couldn't be worse. - she sighed, covering her face with her hands .- Everything has been spoiled.

Selma and Marie exchanged an uneasy glance.

- Lara - Marie intervened again - your... the baby has survived. He's still within you, and it seems that will succeed. I don't understand how this could be because he had almost emerged... but the fact is that he has overcome.

Lara didn't answer. She was staring at the ceiling wood paneling. Selma hesitated:

- Lara ... did you know you were pregnant, right?

- Of course she did know! - Marie broke out, shaking her long hair - Only an idiot wouldn't notice, being as she's of three months! – she bent over the recumbent - On behalf of all that is holy, _how have you been able to hide this?_

Lara neither answered nor took her eyes off the ceiling, but her slight frown showed she was beginning to chafe.

- Let's leave her alone. - Selma whispered softly. She took Marie's arm and both left. Marie got carried away but threw a glance of resentment to Lara, which she didn't see because she just kept staring at the ceiling.

- If you need us - whispered again the Turkish' sweet voice – We will be over here.

- She doesn't need us. – she heard Marie saying, morose - She never needed us.

The door was closed. Lara's eyes closed with it.

She didn't know how long she lay there, motionless but awake, listening to no more than the whisper of the wind and the silence of the castle, because it was not visiting day.

The door opened and closed again. Someone walked up to her bed and sat down beside her. Lara wouldn't open her eyes, but she rebuked herself for being so cowardly and sat up. Kurtis was there.

For her it was as if seeing him for the first time, strange as it seems. The ambiguous, indescribable expression of his face, the white skin contrasting with his dark hair and facial hair. His always slightly furrowed brow, giving him an eternal expression of grim seriousness. The so unusual blue eyes, so thick, like a sunset that has been completed but it's not yet black night.

And above all, the feeling of aging in a man who was still young, and knowing that those dark circles under the eyes, those pale lips, his haggard face had nothing to do with age, but with years and years and years of pain and suffering, wars, severe trials, imprisonment and torture, deceit and lies, of a life he didn't want to live, imposed by force.

And his silence. His eternal silence. The stronger was his sorrow, the more intimate was his pain. There was no way now, or ever had been, to know what he was thinking, what lay behind his silence.

- Please, say something. - muttered Lara - If you're mad at me for having concealed the truth, scream at me, shake me, but don't stay that way.

Kurtis sighed and put his hands to his temples, as if gripped a brutal headache.

- It's you who owes me a few words.

What had sounded his voice like? Like threat, danger? Was it a tone of anger, something that was going to explode? In any case, the damage was done and she couldn't blame him.

- The error was mine. - Lara said, trying to sound as calm as possible - I told you everything was under control, but it wasn't. I haven't lied; I really thought that this wouldn't happen. Apparently I wasn't cautious enough.

She paused, trying to spot the smaller the reaction on Kurtis, but he remained silent and motionless.

- I found out I was pregnant at the hospital in Izmir. – she continued, and less secure - I attributed the pains to the wound and my sickness. When I found out the truth, I hid this to them all. Part of me wanted to get rid of that, I admit it...

Her voice broke. How was it possible that she couldn't stay calm? Where was her serenity, her coldness?

- ... and perhaps it would have been better. - she concluded, looking back to his eyes - But another part of me though that if you were dying... if they kill you, this would be the only thing I would remain from you... an extraordinary man whom, however, I haven't been able to known beyond what your eyes and your silence wanted to tell me, a man for whom I feel something I have never felt by anyone else.

She looked down again.

- _Ergo_ – she sighed, opening her hands – I didn't have the courage to abort. And now that I've almost lost it, I've paid a heavy price for this life.

She leaned slightly forward and grabbed Kurtis' hand. It was cold as a corpse.

- Bathsheba appeared to me as I bled. She said if I showed her where the Three Periapt Shards were, she'll save my life, and also the creature's life.

He rose abruptly. His expression of bewilderment and confusion increased. Lara cursed herself for having caused him so much pain.

- I tried to protect your mind from her!

- I was not willing to give in - Lara intervened - but the pain was too strong and I admit I didn't want to lose him now that I had decided to stay with him.

Kurtis took his hands again to the temples.

- I made a terrible mistake. - concluded Lara – I've revealed to Bathsheba where were the Shards. She will take them to that Lilith and She will destroy them. There were being no way to kill her and we'll be lost.

- It's my fault. - he muttered - I should have guessed what was up... if we hadn't tried...

Lara shook her head violently.

- Enough! You can't assume all the blame! It's me who disappointed you. You already have enough burdens on your shoulders, my love. Don't carry you too with my faults.

Kurtis gave a shuddering sigh and buried his face in his hands. Lara thought he would mourn, but he immediately withdrew his hands and his eyes were dry and red.

- Enough burdens on my shoulders... I spent all my life carrying them all. Before knowing you I always felt tempted to put the gun to my head continually. – he stopped abruptly. He was talking too much about himself. But then resumed his speech by talking with rage - I just have given Giulia such a beating that almost killed her. The Voice has not endured the humiliation and come out of her, but it will return. I know it will. And I'm but a beast that has gone berserk...

- Have you beaten her because of me?

- She was forced to poison you. - gasped Kurtis - I punished her even I knew she didn't deserve. But nothing makes sense without you, Lara... and nothing, absolutely nothing I do turns out well... I failed... How could I be so stupid not to see...?

He collapsed back in bed, holding his head in despair. Lara had never seen him so tormented, he used to be so blank. She put her arm around his shoulders, but he didn't cry.

- Kurtis, forgive me for having concealed this. - she muttered - Everything else is irrelevant. – She hesitated a moment and then went on - I won't force you to be responsible for a mistake that has been mine alone. If you don't want anything to do with this creature, I'll understand. I can take over and do it myself, I thought it...

She stopped. He had calmed down and looked at her solemnly.

- You offend me, Lara. I care about this child as much as you care. And I think if he has been able to survive so far, he's well worth a try.

He withdrew her arm gently and stood up. Lara looked at him aghast.

- I don't know how you can have so much patience with me, after I disappointed you so much.

- That's the difference between you and me, _milady_. You'd already have killed me for not trusting you.

He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, put it on his lips and lit it with a gesture that seemed terribly sexy to her.

- I behaved like a fool. – she whispered.

- You were not the only one. - he sighed, expelling smoke.

Lara looked at him for a while and smiled.

- What's up? - he said.

- Here's a man who's not frightened at the prospect of parenthood. Even in _that_ you had to be different.

He laughed, but it was a laugh full of bitterness.

- If we all three survive to this, it will be the best thing that has ever happened to me.- he threw the cigarette to the ground and stepped it with the heel – It will be the only thing that will be worth it to have been born, apart from having met you, Lara . Everything else... I would like to forget forever.

She didn't answer, because she knew what he meant. Yes, now she knew.

(…)

In two days, Marcus, Maddalena, Lara and Kurtis had left for Syria.

In principle, both Lara and Kurtis had thought to leave immediately, almost without warning, but it was not possible in any way.

First, because the manager to communicate with the monastery of Meteora and demand rather than request, the famous helicopter, paid with to know what, with whom they had been transported there for two years and was still being used by the monks, was Zip. Soon it was known by everyone in the castle.

Of course, the monks didn't refused to, but also demanded Marcus' presence to attempt to heal the abbot Nikos, whom no one could explain how he could stay still alive.

In fact it was a matter of Bathsheba, who not seeing any need to kill him, had ordered to the spirit not to kill him. But every day was a torture for him and it was beginning to be too high price he was paying for having put his hands on her.

And Maddalena... she was like a pain in the ass to Lara, who didn't understand why they should take her with them.

- I can't agree. - she hissed between her teeth, glaring at Kurtis with her eyes- She can't do more than annoy. We're busy enough...

- The Voice is in contact with her, so it can return to claim her. If someone has to lead us, is it. - Kurtis replied calmly, trying to pretend he was not offended by her jealous attitude.

It wasn't the only bad attitude he endured. Marie turned her back to him just knowing they were leaving and went into the bedroom that had been assigned to her. And Radha's eyes welled with tears when she learned that Lara, whom she began to love as an older sister, would leave her behind again. But she kept silent.

Zip and Selma were too engrossed with each other to worry excessively about that and Ivanoff was immersed in his books. However, the Turkish girl didn't resist telling the explorer:

- Are you sure? Because in your state...

- In my state! I'm not missing a leg, Selma. I can avail myself well, I'm not crippled.

- You know what I mean... Marie is very upset...

- That's Kurtis' business. She's her mother. I have no obligations with her.

And Kurtis, the evening they left, went to talk to her. Marie didn't open the door. Selma watched from afar as he spoke with his face pressed to the door. He was saying something, but no voice came out. Finally he retired in silence. When crossing with the Turkish girl in the hallway, Kurtis smiled and said:

- She's pretty angry. It's natural. They took her husband away very soon and then they took also her son, and now they're taking away her... – he stopped talking for a moment, then continued - I would have preferred her to scream at me, but has never been her style. Take care of her in my absence, Selma. Will you?

- Of course. - she smiled, then blushed and gave him a hug - Take care of Lara. She's quite self-confident and can take care of herself but... she's risking too much. And of course take care of you. I spent almost half a month taking care of you two years ago and I would you to appreciate my effort, you know.

And there they were, lodged in the helicopter, waiting to depart. Maddalena looked away from the window, crouched in her seat, as if none of that had to do with her. Ivanoff, tightly clutching his glasses so they wouldn't come out flying with the blizzard lifted by the propellers, shouted above the roar of the engine:

- Have I told you already you're completely mad? You're going to nowhere with no goal.

- Now it's up to the Voice. - Lara mocked, up to the helicopter. She was dressed in trousers and coat, and almost managed to hide her budding pregnancy - Seriously, Vlad, staying here only will get to put everyone in danger. As we're bringing Evil with us, at least we'll take away it from here.

When the helicopter rose, all remained silent. Kurtis was sitting next to the monk who was driving and talking on him in a low voice. Marcus, sitting next to Lara, turned towards her and said:

- I'll remain in Meteora to try to help the abbot. I'll keep in touch with you through Kurtis - at seeing Lara's raised eyebrows, he added – It's complex to explain right now. If you need me you should call me. I may be old but I know how to handle these demons and - here he lowered his voice - and I don't think he'd want to call me.

The flight to Meteora was eternal although in principle it had not much distance as one might think. No one spoke and Lara spent the trip looking out the corner of the eye at Maddalena, who stood staring at the landscape, barely moving. The copper strands of hair partly hid her bruised face.

Lara would never have rejoiced about Kurtis' reaction against her. It would have been too cruel on her. Simply, she felt surprised that him, who always had been tending to be so self-control, had lost his temper in that way and against someone who couldn't defend herself and wasn't at all guilty... But she couldn't feel any pity for her.

As Lara watched her quietly, she couldn't help but wonder why every time she can't stand less and less her presence. Lara had dared to face her only once, long ago, when she tried to catch Kurtis showing her naked body through her wet nightgown. Maddalena had said to her that not everyone is born with her ass in cotton pillows. Well, she was right. But since Lara had free all them from the Island, Maddalena avoided her, shunned her glance and had not spoken at her anytime.

No, she was no rival for her. She almost feared her. But it wasn't enough fear for her to stop haunting Kurtis, who was torn between his love for Lara and the remorse for the suffering of that woman who had decided to give him her heart without reserve.

Lara pursed her lips. She wanted Maddalena to disappear. She wanted her out of the way, taken away by that damned devil, whatever. She did nothing but stand between Lara and Kurtis… and that was beginning to tire her.

Unfortunately, she couldn't do anything, because nothing justified attacking whom nothing had done to her. In the background, and although she didn't want to admit it, she envied only one thing of her: she on herself was able to find Kurtis, meeting him and offering herself to take his place in torture before Lara could arrive. When Lara hardly knew where to direct her steps, she was already with him, watching the torture, trying to avoid him being damaged.

Maddalena had been there before her. Although that was immature and foolish, that fact make Lara felt really upset.

She decided Maddalena had to disappear. She didn't know how, and certainly she couldn't kill her. But she had to be out of their way. She didn't fit even in all that scenery. She was a whore and always would be. She had to return with her people. There she had nothing left to do.

(…)

Selma wandered through the castle's outer blankly. She wondered what to do next with her life. Lara and Kurtis no longer needed her, even if it hurt her. They had left for Syria with Marcus, and she no longer had anything to do with that story. And Zip, of whom (had to admit it) she was in love, seemed to have no greater interest than expect with his nose pressed against his computer's screen for something to happen. Selma felt helpless. She couldn't do anything for anyone or take any decision. It was frustrating.

In vain she tried that Marie opened the door. At the foot of it sat Radha, willing to wait her going out, and every time Selma was approaching with food for the old lady, she was sitting there.

- Has she come out of there? - asked Selma.

The Hindu girl shook her head. In the end, as Marie didn't touch food trays, it was she who ate them, determined not to move until the old lady went out.

Selma felt horrified when thinking Marie was there for three days, locked up without food and without wanting to talk to anyone. She even tried to break down the door, just in case she had done something stupid, but Radha assured her she could hear Marie coughing and moving around the room.

Meanwhile Zip was on his computer and Vlad among his books! Why men never were aware of the seriousness of the situation?

In her wanderings she had been interned by the gardens surrounding the castle and saw before her a shack-shed those which gardeners used to store tools. She should have turned around to retrace her way, but the few seconds she remained absorbed in her thoughts would be fatal for her.

The shed's door burst open.

Everything happened too fast for her, who had no chance to react. Two huge and strong arms encircled her from behind and lifted from the ground, throwing her into the cabin. She tried to scream but a hand clamped over her mouth and was dragged into the shed. The door closed, throwing her in the dark.

- The famous archaeologist Selma Al-Jazeera... - whispered a female voice which could not be related to _those_ arms. - All a celebrity in her country. Too bad, she's so young...

He lit a bulb in the ceiling, and released her. Selma fell over a shelf full of fertilizer bags as she looked at her kidnappers.

She knew one of them. He was that brutal mercenary who had tied Kurtis with wire strand. The other was a woman she had never seen, a sweet blonde with green eyes and an exquisite taste in clothes and in enhancing the already very light and beauty of her face.

- What do you want? - she gasped.

- Don't scream. No one will hear you. We have men stationed in various parts of the gardens. Obviously you have not seen them. I tell you this because you're not going to leave here.

Selma looked terrified and said:

- Who are you?

- My name is Giselle Boaz. Ah, I see that's familiar to you. Your British friend must have told you about me.

- What do you want from me?

- Vengeance.

Three men, whom she hadn't seen before, came from the darkness and surrounded Schäffer. Selma pressed closer against the shelf, while the sweat ran down her back.

- I did nothing to you!

- You think so? Are not you the same Selma who hosted in her home and cared for a murderer?

- Kurtis' not a murderer. And I never refuse to help someone sick and wounded. You don't help sick and wounded. You kill them.

- Unhappy girl. You know nothing about anything. Kurtis murdered my sister. My dear Kristina, who was like a twin to me. He killed her in cold blood and without being able to defend herself.

- That's a lie! - Selma cried indignantly.

- Say what you want. But not satisfied with that, you helped that bitch of Lara Croft, you opened the city of Eden so she could plunder it, and you also helped them to murder Karel.

- It was Karel, using Eckhardt, who killed my friends and my boyfriend, who destroyed my projects and my whole life. - Selma couldn't stop talking - No one, but him, is a murderer. You're the one who doesn't know what you're talking about.

Giselle took two steps forward and, raising her hand, slapped her. The girl's face slammed into the shelf. She cried and her mouth started to bleed.

- Minion. – she heard again Giselle's voice.- Damn Turkish bitch. You've been working willingly with that whore and the pig of her lover. Do you think your life is miserable? Now it will become _unbearable_.

She raised her hand again and snapped her fingers. Immediately the four men surrounded her and started dragging her back. Selma screamed even knowing that no one would hear. Her panic increased when she was thrown back on the surface of a table and they began to undress her, since her screaming, crying and kicking could do nothing against the force of those killers.

- Don't suffer in vain, dear. - said Giselle – They're not going to rape you. Those are men of good breeding, of German blood. They would _never_ mix with a disgusting Moorish like you.

Once they finished striping her, Schäffer took a heavy chain and passed it around a wooden beam passing above, he adjusted it well and bound Selma's wrists to it, while she was strongly held by the others. Then he tugged at the other end of the chain and made Selma to go up, leaving her half hanging from the ceiling while her knees still had support in the table.

Giselle nodded, satisfied, and then Schäffer tied the chain to another beam. The other three flew back to their place in the shadows, while eyeing Selma's nakedness, whose dark skin was damp with sweat.

- Your two friends, – continued the doctor. - along with that redhead bitch and the old man, have disappeared. - That had been found by her men, who had took several days mixed among the tourists visiting the castle - Where are they? Where have they gone?

Selma was silent.

- I asked you a question. If you don't answer, you will have a serious problem. Where have they gone?

Silence.

Giselle sighed in annoyance and, raising her hand, snapped her fingers again.

Schäffer stepped forward and kicked the table, making it fall. Selma's body, without support, hung itself down; her toes were to touch the ground but they didn't reach it.

- If you don't answer - Giselle insisted – I'd have to ask any other friend of yours. The black boy, for example. Or the Indian girl! What would be a few fingers more for them?

- Monster! - Selma suddenly dropped, making a tremendous effort to breath. That position was very painful.

- I'm not more monstrous than that fucking bastard and the whore he just impregnated. Ah, of course we know that, dear. What kind of monster would I be if I knew nothing about it?

Schäffer tried not to smile. Viewing the refined Giselle Boaz talking like a slum gamin was unheard of.

- Will you speak? Or will I have to ask another?

Selma took another slow, painful breath.

- Guess what? Kurtis didn't kill your sister. Eckhardt killed her in spite of everything she had done for his cause. She was killed before your Karel's very eyes, who did _nothing_ to stop him.

- Shut up!

- Now you want me to shut up? If she had been you, that devil you think you love wouldn't have done anything for you. And you waste your life in his cause. You're stupid, but I feel sorry for you. I hope it's true that there's a hell where people like you is going. Hopefully, when you go there, you'll meet him, and he will tell you what I'm telling you now: that he never cared about you!

Giselle pounced on her, but fell back disgusted to notice a sticky substance on her face. She had spit on her!

- Adolf! – she yelled, turning - Give it to me!

The mercenary hesitated. He looked at the blonde, who was covering her dirty cheek with a trembling hand and offered him the other, her face red with anger and her eyes almost pop out of their sockets.

- Doctor, this is better than...

- Give it to me! – she howled a second time.

The outstretched hand shook under his nose. The others watched with amazement the scene.

- Giselle - Schäffer lowered his voice so that she only hear it – That's not what we planned... I can't let you do this...

- It's the last time I ordered it, Adolf Schäffer! - she shouted in reply.

At last, after a few seconds of indecision, the leader of the mercenaries slowly removed an object from his coat, which had wrapped in a tarp. He unfolded it and put it slowly in the palm of Giselle, who gripped and turned back to Selma.

Suddenly, the Turkish girl wanted to die.

Disappear.

Close her eyes and discover that it was all a bad dream, a nightmare. That was _not_ real, Giselle didn't have _that_ in hand, and she was _not_ directing it towards her and lifting it up to her belly.

It was an iron hook.


	37. Chapter 36: Purification

**Chapter 36: Purification**

When Meteora's valley appeared for the third time before her, Lara thought she would never have suspected she was going to be there so many times. And yet that place's beauty was still making her to remain silent at its presence.

Maddalena was also silent while watching impressed those huge masses of stone with monasteries on them. When the helicopter landed near Kalambaka, she felt giddy when discovering the only way to access Ayios Stefanos was to climb that almost vertical wall, as the famous web-elevator would be used by the elder Marcus.

To Kurtis' surprise, Lara turned towards the redhead and said:

- You don't need to come up. The climb is tiring and we're just going to stop for an hour.

Maddalena was about to thank her for her courtesy when Lara, turning around, said in a loud voice:

- Anyway, I don't think the monks will allow you to come. They're picky with _normal_ women, so they'd make a scandal for a _prostitute_.

The redhead blushed and held for not releasing a harsh reply, but she finally said:

- I also don't think you ought to go, sister, since you're already _pregnant_ of three months.

Lara turned violently, in time to see how few monks who had come to meet them exchanged a shocked look. The thing was over because Kurtis grabbed Lara's arm (not too gently, of course), and took her apart.

- Making friends, don't you, _milady?_ – he muttered quietly.

- It's funny to see how you get on her side.

- You've provoked her, Lara. There was no need for you to say she was a prostitute before the monks. You're making a mountain out of a molehill.

- You may not have eyes to see the obvious thing right here. I warned you at the outset she was around you, and since you do nothing to cut safely with her foolish hope, I will.

Kurtis let her go, stepped back and stared at her. At last he muttered:

- I love you, Lara, but sometimes you act like a cretin.

Without giving her time to respond, he turned from her towards the monastery. Lara watched him walk away in silence.

(…)

The whole community had come to receive them. At seeing them appear together, both Healer and Fighter, the monks did something they had never done at seeing the Fighter alone: they bowed their heads and fell on their knees.

Marcus held his hands, grateful, but Kurtis stepped back, frowning. Disgusting! It was disgusting! Were they gods? Some kind of Messiah? He felt sick.

- In this evil hour - said the sacristan, who acted as spokesman - at last a glimpse of hope for our dying abbot. That in your dying Order yet lived a Healer is God's answer to our prayers.

Marcus, who shone like a transfigured Christ, ordered:

- Take me to your abbot.

The cell remained dark and stuffy. When they open the door, a wave of stench struck the two Lux Veritatis. Kurtis went back and covered his mouth and nose. Before Marcus' indignant gesture, the sacristan hastened to explain:

- He has worsened a lot. He went wild and intractable, he broke the ropes and attacked our brothers when we tried to feed him and wash him, so we had to chain him to bed. He tore our Kyriakos' ear with a bite. Because for being dirty and having to lay down, he has wounds on his back, but we daren't let him go. We thought he would die, since he hasn't eaten for days, but now we know that the devil keeps him alive to haunt him. You, who have the Don, have mercy on him and heal him.

Marcus entered decisively into the stinking cell and ordered to open the window. The show he found would have scared the bravest of mortals.

Lying and rigid, with torn clothes and wrapped in his own filth, a thin and wrinkled Nikos was waiting for a hopeless death. He was just reduced to his bones; her head was like a skull, but his eyes were wide, his jaw collapsed, and his clenched teeth full of bloody foam. The stench was as disgusting as the worms Kurtis could see sliding down the festering sores that produced the bindings.

- Close the door, brother, - ordered Marcus to the sacristan - and retire to pray for your abbot with your people. I'll do my best.

When Kurtis was about to follow the sacristan, the old man said:

- Stay. I need the power of your mind to submit this creature.

Without turning, he replied:

- I _don't_ obey your orders, Marcus. I thought this was obvious to all of you when I left the Order.

- Will you deny relief to a troubled soul?

- I also remember saying I don't like your methods.

- They're not mine. This has been done since the Order exists. And if you don't want me to order at you, I plead for. Without you it will take me more time, son.

Finally he relented and turned. A shiver ran down his spine at seeing Nikos, his head twisted into a horrible position and his drooling mouth twisted in a grotesque grimace, having his bloodshot eyes upon him. He started to shake violently, releasing a dreadful laugh, saying:

- Ah, woe to you!

Marcus went towards the bed, though the stench was enough to throw someone back, but then the possessed started screaming harder, still looking at Kurtis:

- Woe to you, son of a bitch and lover of a bitch! Woe to you, Fighter! The gap is already open under your feet, death hands you her arms, and grave awaits you! Woe to you, doomed before you were born, because you will die in terror and will be damned for all eternity...!

The old man stepped forward, angry, and snapped:

- Shut up! One hundred thousand of aeons have passed since you were thrown by the angels of Paradise, with your Lord and your Lady, to drink from the shadows, and to grieve in the darkness, and from that day you still do the same way to torment those who are pure and servants of the Light.

But the creature who spoke by the mouth of Nikos didn't attend his words and went screaming to Kurtis:

- Woe to you, you bastard! You filled up the measure and your time is coming!

- Ignore him - Marcus interjected – they always do this. The Voice also predicted the most horrible torments to me. It's all a pack of lies.

Nikos's head turned to the old so quickly that the bones of his neck cracked.

- Lies! – he croaked - How dare you say that about the Voice in the Dark! She doesn't know the essence of lie, which is a mortals' invention, but she speaks clearly of what the Great Goddess has seen in the distance. And I, who I'm repeating her clear words, I'm not lying either.

- What else has said this goddess of yours?

He turned his head again to Kurtis, who had spoken that time. He had his fists tight and his knuckles were white, as if that prediction of a horrible fate was causing discomfort to him. However, it was not for him, but for another person, who he cared.

- I wouldn't speak so lightly of Her who has your life in Her hands - Nikos mocked - Everything you've experienced so far is nothing compared to what awaits you. And you won't be the only one to pay his pride... Ha, ha, ha!

- Let's end with this. - Kurtis muttered, standing next to Marcus.

(…)

Lara was not idle. She was not typical of her, so she jumped down from the helicopter, went to a rock and sat on it, displayed a map of Syria and started phoning all the contacts she had in the area. Not many, because in the past, she barely had been there, but it will be enough to stay for some time.

As she was working in this, she thought all that adventure really was like a crazy business, because they weren't going to any particular site or because of anything in particular. The idea was to remove the danger of those who had stayed behind.

And she couldn't even suspect that at that time, all their lives were in great danger.

However, Lara was far from being lost, as Maddalena or even Kurtis felt lost. She was aware about what steps she must take from that time.

The first thing was to talk with Bathsheba.

The beautiful Nephilim had been rather complacent and used to appear as she was called. Of course, if that always responded to her own interests and could make a profit, but she also lacked of that evil ingredient owned by her father. And that didn't made her better person, but it offered a chance to Lara, who suspected that, being virtually newborn, Bathsheba could be manipulated in a way she would never have dared to consider with Karel.

However, it was convenient not to wishful thinking about that, since not for being young she could be considered stupid. It would be necessary to put a thousand eyes on her.

If at that point the Nephilim had got the Shards -whose location she had to reveal- which Lara didn't doubt, and then it would be the perfect time to implement the plan she had in mind. And since Kurtis was protecting his own mind and hers from the sharp eyes of the Nephi...

A shadow covered the sunlight that lit up the map and she looked up. Maddalena was in front of her. It was impressive to see her like backlit, as if her hair wasn't already very red itself, seeing the sun filtering through her locks gave the impression that her entire head and hair was on fire.

- What are you doing? – she asked.

Lara was about to send her to hell, but then said:

- I try to plan where we'll stay.

The prostitute surrounded her narrow waist with her white arms. She transmitted a sense of absolute helplessness, although her pride made her hide it to Lara.

- I have no idea what we're doing and where we're going. – she muttered - If you had the courtesy to explain me... everyone seems to know what we take in hand except me.

- That's because you shouldn't be here. - Lara replied bluntly – You should have stayed with your people, because you've gotten into a matter too large for you.

Maddalena looked at her briefly and then said:

- I know you don't like me. You think I've come to stay between you and Kurtis.

- I don't think so. - Lara mocked - I see it every day.

She seemed very confused, because she wasn't accustomed to the vigorous and sarcastic tone with which Lara moved across the world, but she forced herself to stand and said:

- I don't care about what you think or see. But I'm not willing to go on being talked like a dog. I may not be more than a bitch, but I don't know who you think you are with your airs of a queen of the world. Not because of having born wi...

- ... with my ass in cotton pillows I'm superior to you. Thanks, I just know how to finish the sentence. I've heard that many times. And do you know what I use to answer the people that tell me such thing?

Maddalena was silent.

- I answer them that they should inform themselves before about who I am, so they can discover that I haven't lived for nothing but to detach these cotton pillows from my ass, as you say so happily. I don't need anyone to support me and give me the life of a queen; I spare myself with my two hands. Instead, you have had to live in the shadow of rogue and despicable people to get ahead, so shut up if you don't want to keep being wrong.

She got up abruptly. The redhead stepped back instinctively, but Lara swung the map to her and said:

- However, you refused to stay with whom you should stay, to go after a man who wants _nothin_g with you. And behold, a devil has chosen you as a vehicle for poisoning me, pry the only advantage we had on our enemies, and put ourselves in a situation even worse. I'll have to put up you, but before you're going to know in what kind of mess are you.

(…)

The doctor couldn't believe what he saw. He had crossed the aisle running, standing, sterilized at full speed, and when he saw the body before him in the operating room screamed with rage:

- Who did this?

- Severe bleeding by cut with a pointed metal object - told the nurse attached full speed - Tear of the peritoneum and floating ribs broken...

- I see, I see! – he grunted, adjusting his gloves at full speed.

The woman on the couch (A woman? Just a girl!) had her belly cut open so her intestines had spilled out. A nurse with shaking hands was trying to introduce them all over again in the body, while another surgeon was sealing the blood vessels that were shed at full speed, but there was so much blood that no longer knew what they were seeing.

- How many bags does she take? - gasped the surgeon.

- Three ... We're running out of blood. She's going.

- How many years?

- About twenty-five. Turkish. Selma Al-Jazeera.

Amid the red splash which smeared his glasses, the surgeon thought... Selma Al-Jazeera? Was she that young archaeologist at Cappadocia? His young son, who was studying History, used to talk about her all the time...

- She's going, doctor...

- More bags!

(…)

In the hospital corridor, Zip tore his hair, broke his T-shirt collar, and bit his finger nails, releasing a lot of swearing, profanity, half blind with tears; until Marie, letting out a sigh, stood before him and give him two slaps, which cut shortly the hysteria of the poor boy.

- Stop doing the jerk! - the old woman spat in his very face – You're embarrassing your partner! Be worthy of this proof you're undergoing!

Zip groaned and went to collapse on a seat. Luckily, they were alone in the room, apart from Vlad, who had observed the scene in horror, and Radha, who was staying like a caryatid in front of the door leading to the operating room, staring at the junction of the doors.

- That bitch ... that bitch...! - Zip hissed through his clenched teeth.

It had been Giselle. There was no doubt. She was found hanging from chains, her belly open and her guts hanging. That was a clean cut, stylish, a surgeon cutting. It was not lethal, but it was intended to make her suffer for hours, and for hours Selma cried, shouting for help, and with every cry her bowels were a little more shed, so she dared not move. And the blood trickling down her legs. When Zip found her, she had already lost consciousness.

- Hanging and gutted like a calf! – he yelled, burying his head in his hands - Like in a butcher's... that bitch ... that bitch ...

Radha stepped back, knelt on the ground, and clasped her hands. Then she bowed her head and started mumbling a litany in her language.

- Pray, child, pray. - murmured Marie - We're going to need them all ...

Just a tragedy of such caliber was able to make her out of her confinement. She was particularly weakened by hunger strike, but she had decided that, with such terrible look things were taking; it was time to stop fooling around and take care of the others.

One more time.

(…)

Quietly, firmly, Kurtis and Marcus joined hands before the abbot's bed. The devil, who had seen perform this sign many times over the centuries, knew what to expect, but still showed no fear and no decision to leave the body, and laughed and insulted them with a parley half in Greek half in Latin.

As already mentioned, it was the responsibility of Healers to expel a demon that has been entrenched in a human body. Purification Ceremonies, as they used to call these particular Order's exorcisms, were made by several Healers that bound their hands and at least one Fighter containing the attacks of the devil with the strength of his mind, as a Healer in full ceremony was defenseless.

And now there were only a Healer and a Fighter, a very old Healer indeed, and a Fighter who wouldn't want to be so, but who unintentionally have the strength of many Fighters together. And that was pretty known by the devil knew that had plagued Nikos, who, seeing the risk he ran, sent a message to his Lady, saying:

_What should I do? Go, resist? How much longer I had to deal with this mortal?_

Over time, distance, and the vacuum of silence in which they communicated, Bathsheba heard the cry of the creature. After a moment of meditation, she ordered:

_Resist as long as you can and then leave, but make sure of leaving them exhausted. Hurt them as much as you can, kill the old man if you're capable of it. And then retire, because you've done enough._

Even the evil spirit insisted, saying, _should I kill the abbot?_

And Bathsheba said, _it's not necessary. He will die alone. Now back off, I'm busy._

- Listen, devil! - exclaimed Marcus - I command you to leave this mortal body you're tormenting and go back to the Shadow you came from. If you don't obey, I shall expel you by force, cleaning you like a wound drain, and that must be very bitter to you, and I'll even destroy you if necessary.

For answer, the spirit issued a grotesque laughter, which had no other purpose than to provoke the Healer, who immediately made the ceremony began.

About what happened there in, the monks never knew anything for sure: they heard as if they were butchering the poor abbot for almost three hours. Of course, there wasn't the slightest physical assault; it was all a battle between minds: the one of the possessed and the two Lux Veritatis, but it was a bloody and difficult struggle. The spirit twisted Nikos' body so much that ended with releasing the ligatures that tied him to the bed and threw himself over Marcus, knocked him on the ground and would have strangled him if Kurtis hadn't pulled him out of there and sent him headlong into the other end of the room using his telekinesis to free himself from having to touch that nasty and tortured body.

- Damn, I've killed him. – he mumbled grumpy, helping Marcus to get up, whose lip was bleeding.

- Hopefully not. - said the old man, coughing, dropping himself into a chair.

Kurtis quickly bent over the limp body of the abbot, who suddenly twisted as if he'd received an electrical shock and threw his hands on his neck, trying to choke him. By pulling the hands of the abbot away from the neck, his nails scratched his skin, leaving blood grooves, and a last attempt forced him to submit, but the spirit was exhausted and left throwing a great shout. The abbot's body stopped shaking and collapsed on Kurtis, who pulled him away and lay on the ground.

Marcus went towards him and examined him. Nikos was, of course, unconscious and breathing very faintly. While attending him, Kurtis stood scratching his neck and looking around. Finally he said:

- He's gone. He won't return.

- In good time, son. Call the monks, he needs attention.

The brothers praised the two Lux Veritatis as they hurried to meet the abbot, who was washed and cleaned up, doing the same with that filthy room. Kurtis didn't miss more than one glance of reproach from them, as if to say _you weren't capable, but he has done it_. He didn't care about what anyone may think, since without his help Marcus would have achieved neither. He turned his back to everyone and went to the monastery's entrance.

The strong sun hurt his eyes, after having been accustomed to the darkness of the monk's stinking cell. He turned to rub the scratches on his neck, thinking about what the spirit had told him. He didn't believe those were lies. For Marcus it was very easy to conclude that, but as a Fighter, over all his life, he had learned far more about demons than any Healer.

At that time, Marcus, who had followed him, overtook him and said:

- Where are you going, son?

- Lara and Giulia are waiting for me. We're going, Marcus, we've nothing to do here.

- I'll stay. Nikos may not survive and here I'm needed. May the Light be with you, son.

- And with you, Marcus.

(…)

The chief police leaned over and examined the photographs they had taken from the crime scene. Then he sighed and threw them on the table, and examined the two women before him. A young one and an old one, but not infirm at all. Two Indians, one from India itself and one that should be a red-skin or something.

- I'm from the Navajo tribe, inspector. - murmured Marie - So stop looking at me with that face.

- Excuse me. You are without doubt a pretty picturesque group. I spoke with the surgeon and he seems to agree with me that her injury is caused by a person skilled in medicine... so she didn't immediately sought to kill Miss Al-Jazeera. If you can...

- I already said that. - insisted the old woman – She's a young and attractive woman, her name is Giselle Boaz and she's a doctor or something like that.

- And where from do you draw the guidelines for making such a statement?

Marie remained silent. What could she tell? How to start from the beginning, from the Nephilim, the Cabal, the Lux Veritatis and a lifetime of misery and suffering?

- She's our enemy. I think she acted out of revenge.

- You must get me familiar with such relationship or I won't trust you, no less to let you go.

- You can't hold me against my will. What accusations do you have against me?

- It's necessary that...

- Stop wasting time. That crazy killer is loose around here. You better find her before there's another disaster.

- Lady...

- There's the crime scene, a filthy tools hut where they have hung an innocent girl and have gutted her like a pig. We can provide information concerning this woman, and what activities she's dedicated to...

Suddenly, there was light in Marie's mind. Leaning towards the agent, she said:

- Two years ago a series of crimes were committed on the Strahov in Prague and then in the outskirts of Munich, in a place known as the Laboratory. Are you familiar with those facts?

- No, ma'am.

- Then contact with the Czech and German police and they will tell you the same about Giselle Boaz: that she was among the few involved people who managed to escape.

(…)

Zip, his forehead and hands glued to the cold glass, was staring at the clear liquid poured through the tube into Selma's arm, who, covered with a sheet up to her neck, danced on the border between life and death, without regaining consciousness.

Thus he could see her only through the glass, because after the surgery she had been transferred to the ICU, after rebuilding the wreckage of her belly. And, stuck to the glass, he took hours without moving.

- Son...

He took some time to cast his eyes away from her, but he did. The surgeon who had operated Selma was beside him, and judging by the way he was looking at him with pity; he must be looking terrible.

- Son, this is at God's hands, as my grandmother used to tell me. I did my best, but she's very weak and depends on her own strength. We'll watch her day and night to take care of her, but I won't give you any hope. It depends on her...

Zip wasn't listening. He felt a ringing in the ears. What a fool he was, while she was screaming and bleeding, helpless before her executioners, he was engaged to a damn computer. This way he had spent his entire life and now because of that he was losing her… she, who was the only one to make him feel, in a long time, that life's worth living.

The surgeon, receiving no answer, patted his back and walked away, lamenting, _what a pity, so young and pretty girl, these things should not happen, what a disgrace..._ and prepared himself for another night of insomnia.

Then Zip's cell phone rang. At first he didn't recognized the singing melody, but then he picked it up:

- Zip, honey, it's me, Marie...

- ...

- Look, we reached a consensus with the police. That damn woman won't remain unpunished, but now we're in danger, Zip, we have to hide...

- I'm not going anywhere, Marie. My place is here with her.

- Son, you're in serious danger, we have to...

- Why everyone insists on calling me "son"! I'm nobody's son, and I won't move from here!

- Okay, as you want ... but I hope you are aware of...

- I'm aware that _Selma is dying_, that's the only thing I have to be aware now.

- You're right. Vlad will return to the castle nevertheless, there has been no way to convince him, and as for me, I will take care of Radha's safety and trying to contact my son and Lara.

- Good luck, Marie. As for me you shouldn't worry anymore.

He hung up and kept looking through the glass.

(…)

On reaching the square where the helicopter was waiting patiently, he saw Lara sitting, looking at a map, and Maddalena at her side. The explorer, as usual in her, had an expression of trust and self-confidence, as if that were not but just another adventure, as if she wasn't three months pregnant and expecting death -if he had to put ear to what the devil had predicted, and it was stupid not to listen to the warning of such creatures-.

Kurtis sighed. What would have he done to have the faith she had, in herself and her possibilities, and that everything would be okay and luck was to accompany them. So she had succeeded in almost everything she had set, and he failed again and again.

Seeing him, Maddalena rose. If he had been already surprised seeing the two women together and in silence (what wouldn't have surprised him was to see them screaming and pulling the other's hair, but apparently wasn't something typical of them), he was far more surprised by how she looked, as if for the first time she saw him. Not so, he corrected himself, because the first time she looked at him was with a sort of sexual desire, and now she looked as if he was a freak, a creature as strange as admirable.

- You have blood on your neck! - said the redhead.

He had forgotten about the scratches on his neck, he turned to scratch them, and mumbled the typical: it was nothing.

- It must have been horrible. - Lara said shrewdly, with a look she could get an idea of what happened.

- I've seen worse things. - told him - I'm sorry I took so long. Did you find something?

Lara quickly folded up the huge map.

- The issue of Syria is complicated. We'll make a first stop in Beirut and then continue on to Damascus. I have some contacts in the area.

- But Syria is very large. - then interjected Maddalena, to Kurtis' surprise - And there's no place we can direct, as you told me.

- No. But I have a clue.

Smiling, Lara walked to the helicopter and jumped, prompting the pilot to fly to Lebanon.

Maddalena glanced at Kurtis with a candid gaze and walked leisurely towards the vehicle. It was all very strange.

_What did you tell her, Lara?_

(…)

Nikos Kavafis, successor of the ineffable Minos Axiotis - whom everyone said he had died in the odor of sanctity - regained consciousness and opened his eyes, looked stunned at the crowd of brethren around him, and among them an old man slightly bent and with long white hair, but with a fierce expression on his face.

- How are you, Nikos?

- Who are you?

- Marcus, brother Healer.

He put his hands to his temples, dazed, and two brothers incorporated him in the bed, now clean and cured of his wounds, still staring at the old man. Marcus finally rolled up his black habit and showed him the tattoo shoulder.

- A Healer Lux Veritatis! - Nikos said.

- I survived when the Order disappeared, except for brother Kurtis, whom you already know. However, time will talk about this. How are you?

- Not very good ... What happened to me?

- Don't you remember?

Nikos ran his hands over his face, exhausted, and looked at his bandaged hands.

- A woman ... with big green eyes...

- Is that your last memory? _Patér, _it's been almost five months since the Nephilim Bathsheba...

The abbot writhed to hear that name and let out a scream.

- I have sinned against chastity. That devil prompted me to lust. She came and stole the Periapt, and I'm still tempted... I have sinned...

- Any sins you think you've committed are purged to spare. You have been purified and the evil spirit won't haunt you anymore.

- I don't remember anything...

- So much the better. _Patér_, I request an immediate meeting with the entire community. You're still weak and you shouldn't get up, but it's necessary to convene the meeting. Something serious is happening.

- It will be. Pancratios will attend on my behalf.

The novice bowed, flattered by being awarded with such honor.

(…)

The meeting was held in the refectory. There were already many monks who lived in Agios Stefanos, thirty, despite those who had died and that no new novices came, apart of Pancratios, who, as Marcus would know later, had been abandoned as a child at the foot of the immense rock and his cries attracted the attention of the monks, who adopted him. This conditioned his sour character, and led him to such an ascetic life among adults and elderly men. Reviewing the monks who had gathered around him, the Healer knew that in many generations the monastery would be empty and it would become just another place for sightseeing.

And it was. The old historical monastic orders were doomed to disappear. Some of them because of having died or being older, others because having being exterminated.

Discarding that dark thought, Marcus took the floor:

- Brethren, I came to you not only to heal your abbot, whose recovery I am pleased. A great danger hangs over the world. Two years ago, the latest in the High Breed was killed by who was then considered the last Lux Veritatis, whom we may still be considering the last of the Fighters. But it has done nothing but devote ourselves to greater danger. You all know already that there's a woman of disturbing beauty in whose presence mortal beings are captivated by her charm.

He paused, and then he heard Pancratios sating:

- A witch of Satan!

- A Nephilim, brother. A child born from Giselle Boaz's scientific experiments, an unhappy who should certainly have lost her mind, because she risked greatly to gestate and give birth to a creature that could have been monstrous, but which turned out to be perfect for her intentions.

A murmur rose among the monks, and finally Marcus picked up the thread of discourse:

- To this creature has been given the name of Bathsheba. Some of you've already have seen her, she came to steal the Sacred Periapt and cursed your abbot when he tried to stop her. No more than two years of life and therefore is practically a newborn, but she's plenty of enough intelligence and evil to become a real danger. Especially, because judging by what we have been investigating, she has made a contact with the Queen of the Voragine.

That comment caused great horror, because suddenly there were shouts and the monks began to gesticulate too wildly, talking to each other. The sacristan called for silence and then said:

- Brother Marcus, we're Christians. We don't believe in pagan gods.

- I assure you, brother sacristan, that Lilith is as real as you and me. As real as Bathsheba is and as it was who called himself Joachim Karel, his genetic father. As real as there's a place where this deity lives, accompanied by Her husband, the angel Sama...

- The Devil! - Pancratios exploded indignantly – You're talking about Satan in this holy place!

- You've done before - Marcus hissed, but the novice didn't hear him, but added:

- You speak of Satan as an angel, but he's not but an abject devil, the father of all the aberrations of the Earth!

- Personally, brother Pancratios, now I worry more about His wife than about Himself. And I expect to be able to speak without interruption.

The novice was now silent, moody, and then Marcus continued:

- I won't stop into lengthy detail about the latest developments. I will soon. Now it's important to know that Bathsheba is seizing the Order's sacred objects: she stole the Periapt and as for the Three Shards, we believe they should already be in her possession. And we know why she stole them.

The sacristan, who had been meditating with frowning, whispered:

- The abbot Minos, may he rest in peace, told me about this. He said that the glass with which was made such objects couldn't be broken, but also said that according an ancient tradition they could only be broken by the impure Lilith, goddess of the underworld.

- That's an atrocity! - shouted one monk in the back rows – You're calling _goddess_ to a devil! That's polytheism, blasphemy!

- We have no time to waste in mystical considerations. - Marcus grunted - Well, sacristan, we think so. We believe that the Nephilim will take them to her Mother to destroy them, and then she will be indestructible. But that's not all, as Bathsheba also stole Lilith's Scepter from the ancient city of Tenebra, although Miss Croft and brother Kurtis tried to recover it before.

There was silence.

- Don't know about Lilith's Scepter? It brought so much bitterness to the Order in medieval times. Looks like a rod, but it's a weapon. It's said that the Goddess rose and with a single blow she could kill hundreds of mortals.

Outraged, the monk who had protested rose and left the room, but not before spitting towards Marcus:

- Blasphemer!

When the door closed abruptly, the Healer continued calmly:

- If Lilith rises, and the Scepter reaches Her hands, not only the Nephilim's direct, but all of humanity, will be in great danger. Bathsheba must be stopped somehow. Unfortunately, we only have a vague prophecy -stammered through the mouth of a demon, Lilith's server, calling itself The Voice In The Darkness- which selects a group of people traveling on a Bitter Path that must lead them to pain and death as a sacrifice to the Goddess, who will bemoan some and condemn others. And I don't even know who are called to suffer such fate, except for brother Kurtis and Miss Croft.

- What can we do, brother, against such evil? Our prayers will be little useful, we are but humble monks.

- I don't want prayers from you. I want to let me access the library.

He heard a shocked whisper. What Marcus had just requested was no banality. The libraries of the monasteries of Meteora were absolutely private and no one who wasn't a monk could access to them, even a novice couldn't see the door leading there. Penalties for access to the library without a specialized license included two hundred lashes, giving indication that it was an unreformed rule since the Middle Ages, because there had been no cases of novices or monks who tried to break the rule.

And now a lay man from outside the monastery, even he was a Lux Veritatis, requested access to the library. But Marcus knew what he'd said. For weeks he had investigated along with Vlad, Lara and Kurtis, all resources and documents in Bran's castle, and all writings, texts and manuscripts that the professor had gathered, and all computing resources provided by Zip. All for not finding out enough about the prophecy, Lilith's herself, or any information to help them. If the answer wasn't there, in one of the oldest libraries in Europe, it wasn't anywhere else.

- That should be discussed with the _patér_. - muttered the sacristan - I'm sorry, but we can't promise anything more. Now, if any...

- Wait a minute. - said Marcus. – There's another very important thing you should know...

(…)

Ivanoff ordered piles of papers at full speed. His office was a mess, with sheets spread all over the floor, and while tiding this or that classified document, his mind was spinning with what little they had obtained so far. He, who called himself a professor, he couldn't do much regarding what to expect from the prophecy.

He took off his glasses and wiped the sweat from his forehead, lamenting the folly that surrounded him: Selma dying, Zip alienated, Marie and Radha at the police and Lara and Kurtis stumbling in the Middle East without a clue about where to go (or so he thought) and himself without knowing what to think: all was madness.

He had just ordered three piles of documents and he was heading to the next when he noticed a shadow in a dark corner of the office, lit by little more than a lamp and firelight, for it was night.

- Who are you? - exclaimed Ivanoff without his voice trembled, as at that point he was no longer that frightened little man who tried to challenge Lara and Kurtis with a Swiss Army knife.

The figure emerged from the shadows and stood at the light. At first glance, the professor saw a young pretty blonde woman with short hair and green eyes. He knew immediately who she was and his hands remained stiff on the documents.

- Vladimir Ivanoff. – she whispered – I've taken so much trouble to find out about you. You had a degree in Philosophy and Letters, and for many years -_too_ many I think- you did historical research focused on this old castle as if it were your own place. What I wonder is how you were able to help those criminals.

- That's what I ask you, Madam, as were those of the Cabal who set fire to my castle.

He had not finished saying this when another shadow, much bigger, went out of the darkness. He felt the blood froze in his veins at the sight of a burly bully, ruddy as a German, since he looked stern.

Giselle, meanwhile, had already approached the table and, taking a sheet, looked at it slightly, then threw it down.

- I'm sick of papers and letters... my daughter has spent months mulling over superstitions drawn from papers like these, and your friend the explorer has been struggling for a filthy wad of documents which was hold by a mafia whose whore took beyond the sea and slipped into my domain... yes, I've come to find out all, I have good contacts. I'm sick of this issue.

Schäffer, meanwhile, had approached towards the table and at Giselle's indication, swept with a blow of his arm all the organized piles of papers that had cost Vlad hours to qualify. They rose in a cloud and were falling scattered throughout the room. The professor didn't flinch.

- Everybody should ignore superstitions, do you, Professor? - Giselle said, sitting elegantly in an armchair in front of him – They dull the mind and make people waste their time when the future belongs to science and progress. You should consider that before collaborating with whom you collaborated.

From the corner of his eye he saw the mercenary approaching to look at a shelf, and then took a heavy, oddly bronze statuette representing an angel about to take flight. Then he returned with Giselle and Vlad grabbing the statue's head.

- By the way - Giselle said then, seeing that the professor held her gaze without saying a word - I forgot to ask, how is the Turkish girl? It would be rude of me if not interested in her health!

- Lady - Vlad sighed, exhausted – you'd know better than me how is she, since you made to her such an aberration with your own hands. I must say that your insinuations and discourses have tired me, so do what you came to do and leave.

At that time the phone rang. Schäffer arched his eyebrows, but Giselle gestured with her hand and said to the professor:

- Have the goodness to attend the call, Professor.

Extending a hand that trembled slightly, Ivanoff picked up:

- Vlad! Are you?

His throat was dry. After clearing his throat, he stammered:

- Yes, I am...

It was Lara. At the time Giselle leaned over the table to hear well and Schäffer put his ear to the handset:

- Vlad, we're in Lebanon. We'll take the road to Damascus in a week, but... I remember you said something about a temple in the vicinity...

Although his voice was out of sheer because of terror, Giselle pointed him with a jerk to make him respond.

- Yes, Lara, dear, there... there's a temple in Syria ... near Damascus ... an ancient t-temple...

- Is something wrong? It seems you've seen a ghost!

He would have wanted to cry, asking for help, telling her she was in danger, that they had mortally wounded Selma, but he could only answer...

- It's only I'm knackered. You know, mulling over all this... in fact – he coughed – there's a temple half buried near Damascus. That temple began to be dug in the 50's, but due to instabilities, wars, conflicts and all that, you know, the archaeologist were expelled and has been abandoned since then...

- The temple was dedicated to Lilith, Vlad, so I'm going there.

- Are... are you sure? Looking for a half-ruined temple seems very little thing...

- Let me do, I'm good at this. Tell Zip to give me the coordinates when he can get them. I must go, Vlad, goodbye.

And she hung up. Ivanoff's hand slowly went to deposit the handset on the base, but Schäffer snatched it from his hand and smashed it against the wall, making it shatter.

- So, in Lebanon and Damascus' road, huh? - Giselle smiled - Well, it hasn't been necessary to disembowel you also to know what that silly girl wouldn't tell me. You've been very lucky. You don't know how much.

- Leave my friends alone. You said that superstitions aren't with you... What brings you about this? What harm can they do to you?

- The harm was already done to me. I'm just taking my revenge. Tell me, Professor, do you also believe in such nonsense? Do you believe in this prophecy?

Vlad didn't respond. He was silent and kept looking at her, when suddenly, God, a crazy idea, absurd, went through his mind in the last moments of his life, and passed just when, either accidentally touched his pocket, and noticed that there was his little Swiss Army knife, with which he tried to defend himself years ago...

- Professor?

- Lady, I don't know if I believe or not in these things. But I know that the Nephilim believe in it, and therefore the last of them, whom you have known, he also believed in it. If so high and supernatural beings, whom exceed us, unfortunately, in wisdom and understanding as much as they exceed us in evil and cruelty, thought about it, it must be true. For my part I shouldn't say anything else.

And suddenly, without warning, Vlad jumped up and threw himself on Giselle, waving the knife's sharp blade which went directly to her face in a desperate attempt, perhaps foolish, but brave, to strike that killer, to avenge the damage she had done to Selma, and to avenge himself, since he knew he was about to die.

But it was a vain attempt. If she had been alone, perhaps, he may have hurt her, tearing the skin of her face, cutting off the lips, or even pulling an eye out. Finally, having her severely disfigured, but she wasn't alone. He didn't touch her, because first she turned away with a shout, so that the knife was plunged into where before her head had rested, on the velvet chair, and second, Schäffer came to her aid, brandishing the bronze statue with such force that, after describing an arc in the air, smashed the professor's skull with such force that he lifted him from the ground and dragged him across the table, bouncing him against the wall until he was finally inert in the soil.

Panting, Giselle got up, still pale because of the shock suffered; since she hadn't expected that feeble and coward man to react that way.

- Is he dead? - asked to her companion, who at that time bent over the prostrate body.

- See for yourself. - he said, and sarcastically showed her the statuette.

In the bronze surface there were traces of blood, brains and hair. Looking to the professor, he leaves no doubt: a part of his skull was completely crushed and his head was open, under which lay a large pool of blood.

The German threw the statue down and said:

- Here we finished, pretty. We're going.

But Giselle, who was staring at many scattered papers, said:

- Not yet. Collect this and throw it into the fireplace. Make burn everything. Also burn their books, notebooks and notes. And then destroy the guy's computer. Don't let any resource that can serve to them.

- Your wish is my command, honey.


	38. Chapter 37: Road to Damascus

**Chapter 37: Road to Damascus**

- As you know - continued Marcus - the Order to which I belong is dead, since only two members survived: a very old Healer whom I suspect remains little of life, and a Fighter who never put himself to the service of his Order, so he's therefore almost as if he doesn't count. However, there's the possibility for the Order to reborn.

The monks, who that day seemed jungle's parrots more than a silent community, broke out again in whispers. No wonder. For centuries, and being not always in danger, the Lux Veritatis had been the guarantor of peace and stability in the community and the world, but very few (and it was what suited) were aware of that sacrifice. The war between mortals and demons had been hidden but had come to destroy to those who by their mortal nature, and even having many Dons, at the end had finally succumb under evil creatures who outnumbered them, apart from having to face the Dark Alchemist and the last Nephilim.

Of course these ones, except for the demons that always proliferate -unless the Voragine's doors were closed-, had been defeated, but at what price?

- Have you discovered any mortal endowed with the Don? - asked the sacristan.

- No, brother. The odds of that happening are slim. The Don is passed from parents to children and it doesn't arise spontaneously in anyone. What I meant is that Miss Croft is pregnant and the unborn baby is brother Kurtis' son.

The tumult then organized was tremendous. Some began to talk and cry at once, and Marcus went back with a gesture of disgust: that place looked like a market.

- I always said that this woman was a prostitute. – he heard the novice Pancratios sarcastically saying, a comment that finished with the old Healer's patience.

- Enough, brethren! – he shouted, raising her arms. The monks remained silent - If you think I came here to gossip, you're wrong. Christian and moral considerations and the points of view that deserve that kind of binding are irrelevant. I tell you this because I want to ask you for help, because despite being a community of praying monks, you have special resources which I haven't.

After a moment of silence, in which all they looked at him expectantly, he continued.

- If the creature survives to what awaits to his parents; which I wish with all my heart and we should all pray for, may either be born as a boy or as a girl. If a girl, nothing will change, because as you know women have never inherited the Don, but if it's a boy...

His words remained hung in the air. This time no one murmured.

- I think you can imagine, brethren, what would be the son of Konstantin's son, Gerhardt's grandson, the two most powerful Lux Veritatis the Order has ever known. Brother Kurtis is already a wasted prodigy but he has chosen to be so, perhaps because he's not aware of the great power he has, or he simply doesn't want to use it. Such waste has been more than an insult to our heritage and the blood of our dead. Brethren, we must not let the same happen with his child.

Marcus took two steps and spread his hard glance by the audience attending him. Despite his old age and having spent so much time in jail, he still had his magnificent oratory, and his stern appearance helped him to command respect.

- We lost the father, but we won't lose the child! That child should mark the beginning of a new Order. Otherwise we can give up on humanity, who will fight then the demons? It's a sign, he's the expected Messiah.

- But he's running right now a significant risk. - the sacristan objected - If a great threat lurks over all, on that creature as well. Demons should be already informed of his existence.

- Of course. There was no less to wait. - Marcus said - And it's likely that Lilith's daughter saw him even before he was conceived. Nothing escapes the eyes of these creatures. But one can only hope.

Pancratios then asked to speak, and the old man allowed him to do so although he was afraid of the boy's comments:

- Maybe if we lock up the whore until the time came...

- That's inhuman! - claimed a monk.

- Why? Didn't the Lux Veritatis locked up Loanna Von...?

- Lady Loanna went to the Order willingly and asking for protection, the only one who locked up her was that wicked of _Drakul_, who...

- What's the matter, she was the same. The same whore...

- The situation is not comparable! Lady Loanna was raped by a Nephil...!

- And that exempts her from being a prostitute? All women are whores!

There was a tremendous bang, and the two monks who had begun to discuss silenced. Marcus was out and the sacristan, embarrassed, hastened to follow him down the corridor of the cloister...

- In this monastery we need a little more of humility and respect...

- Sorry, brother Healer. Pancratios is young and earnest...

- In any case, it's stupid even thinking about locking up Lara. She's no person whom anyone can do that. It seems you knew nothing about her.

- I never thought such a thing...

- In addition, it would be absurd. Those who want her child's death would end up by going to her and no walls or doors or locks could stop them.

- I'll talk to the abbot and refer what you asked and speak of child's existence. Don't worry, brother Healer, you'll get help in return for the favors you've done in this holy house.

Marcus stopped at that point and, taking the old monk's shoulders, smiled and said:

- Thank you, brother. But tell him that I need help not only to fight Lilith, but to, when the time comes, seize the creature.

The sacristan looked at him, stunned.

- You mean ... to steal the child from his mother?

- And what else can be done? Just born, he will be taken from his father and mother. He should not be with them, or even growing up with them. She's too authoritarian and doesn't feel attachment to the Order's cause, and he's a renegade. They will spoil their son as brother Kurtis was spoiled. That child is ours, he'll be born with a Don, and that Don must be cultivated and exploited. Pushing him away from his parents and all their bad influences, and formed in power and wisdom, he will become the greatest of all Lux Veritatis.

- Whatever you say, brother. You are wise and you know what you're saying.

(…)

Beirut, which was in its early years West's bulwark in the East, had several luxury hotels available to tourists. In one of them Lara booked accommodation for one week to three, and then began to deploy her diplomatic strategy so skillfully practiced and repeated until the past. The first thing was to get decent clothing to move in Beirut's high society, which was still a colonial waste of times when being a French protectorate, although after the Second World War the West had been expelled from there. However, there were again some privileged classes that, among noble and petty, were still anchored to the city where they lived and others sometimes went for sightseeing or holidays.

The next day, people were surprised to see two women and one man, elegantly dressed, who moved with complete ease in that environment of streets, bars, restaurants and lobbies of hotels, which were not included in their list of VIP people. Of course, more than one recognized the famous Lara Croft, who moved like fish in water, as less couldn't be expected of her, but all were silent in the presence of an attractive but dark man, who seemed comfortable with that environment but knew how to behave, and a very sensual redhead, both totally unknown.

For Maddalena wearing nice dresses and moving among big fish people wasn't new at all, but seeing people's eyes on her, she kept asking herself what they would think of her, because Lara was always grabbing Kurtis' arm and she followed them as a shade.

_Three's a crowd_, she kept repeating as she watched Lara greeting and bowing her head from side to side while waving to such an employer, such a countess or diplomat. She was clever in choosing her clothes, which completely hid her pregnancy; although it still wasn't very noticeable, but Lara knew she was going to be well looked up and down, and also her two companions, so she made sure that everything was perfect.

Also she lacked of time to establish telephone contact with some people who could be helpful, but failed to be received within a week.

(…)

- What did you tell her? - was the first thing Kurtis asked Lara when they were alone in the hotel suite.

- Whom? - muttered Lara, who had come to check at the mirror, surprised, that she had dark circles under her eyes.

- To Giulia, of course. When I left you seemed just about to kill each other, and when I return I see that you get along with her.

Lara turned and displayed a provocative smile.

- Honey, so that I get along with her, she would have to be a hundred thousand miles away _from here._

- I thought so. What did you say to her, Lara?

- Just what she needed to know.

He shook his head.

- Maybe my concept of _what she needs to know_ is different from yours.

- Maybe, but you have to trust me. Come on, Kurtis, she has been attacked by a demon. We shouldn't have her in ignorance. - and seeing that he was looking askance at her, she added – You don't trust me, do you?

- Frankly, you've been so jealous lately that I doubt you'd be interested in the least about what she should know.

- Oh come on, I only told her you're a member of an ancient order dedicated to fighting the demons, and sometimes, they possess anyone and massacre people around. What the hell, Kurtis! I told her the truth, that's all.

- And that was enough so that you get along?

- That was enough to make her mature a bit and think about what she comes up, something much more important than spending the day making you eye drops and accidentally touching you shoulder when passing by. Why do you care so much that I get along with that one?

- Because you two are going me crazy! I have enough worries without you tormenting me with your jealousy and she with her... obsession.

Lara smiled triumphantly and sat in an armchair.

- Here's the thing. If she ceases to make you eye drops, the problem would vanish.

- Since you'd stop being jealous and therefore, to torment me?

- Come on, Kurtis! Could you tell me what you want? Do you want me to go and say to that one, _"Hey, here you have, do what you want with him"?_

- You could ignore her.

- Ah! Did you _ignore_ her, Mr. Trent?

Kurtis remained silent.

- You feel sorry for her, which is unbelievable. - Lara continued - In fact, I think if I weren't here, maybe you would want to give relief to such a sense of mercy giving her a joy...

- Stop. - Kurtis said, pointing at her with his index finger - Not that way, Lara. Don't exhaust my patience, I have little left.

Lara said nothing, but smiled faintly.

- You're not seriously thinking such thing about me, are you? Because if you think _that_, it seems you don't deserve what you have.

- And what I have, Kurtis?

- Me. It's not so much, I know, but it's all I can give you.

And without another word, he went out slamming the door. Lara remained silent, looking thoughtfully at the ceiling.

(…)

He was in the dark, brooding for a long time. Finally, he decided what he would do. He walked into Maddalena's room (which Lara had booked well away from theirs) and knocked on the door.

- Giulia? Are you there?

The door opened and she looked at him with astonishment. She was wearing sweatpants and her untamed hair was tied in a bun.

- I have to talk to you. - exposed him very seriously.

She made him enter and sat on the bed, visibly nervous.

- Have you had any new trouble with the Voice?

For a brief moment, she seemed disappointed (what was she waiting for him to say?) and then she said:

- The truth is no, but I'm scared. Somehow... I feel I'm not alone.

With a quick glance, Kurtis captured the presence of a rosary on the bedside table and a picture of ... was she a Saint?

- I don't want to disappoint you, but nothing can do a holy rosary against a demon or spirit.

- What about an Indian amulet?

- What?

Maddalena probed by the collar of her shirt and pulled out the _dreamcatcher_, which dangled before their eyes.

- Where did you get that? - Kurtis exclaimed in amazement - It's my mother's!

- Seriously? It was in an abandoned van, next to a destroyed hut...

Kurtis made a bitter smile and nodded.

- You must have arrived when they were made prisoners by Schäffer, both she and Lara. It's her amulet, and it has been with me since childhood.

She started to remove it to give it to him, but he stopped her.

- Nevermind, keep it. We'll return it to her later. I never believed in the power of these things, but my mother always trusted them.

Then he glanced around. He just noticed something. Yes, she was right, she wasn't alone. And what was there, between those four walls, stalking, wasn't with him or with Lara, but only with her. He tried to break through to that presence, which couldn't see and hear, only feel. As he had received, but not understood, the hasty conversation that devil and Bathsheba had before he was expelled from Nikos' body.

_You're all very clever_, he thought in silence, _but not enough_.

_Not only clever, but also old, very old_, then the Voice said sarcastically, _and you know this, little mortal... The devil knows more because he's old..._

- Kurtis? Are you okay?

Maddalena looked at him with her big brown eyes. He shook his head.

- She may come back. You know whom I mean.

- No! - she cried, and clung to his arm – You promised that you'll move her away from me!

- I can do that as many times as desired, and burn out on it, and she'd never get tired. You have to understand that... what Lara told you about me? – he dropped suddenly.

She looked at him in silence a moment, still holding his arm, and whispered:

- I already knew something about the Lux Veritatis... Daniele was obsessed with the issue since he took me as his lover. His uncle, the cardinal, had done an extensive research... things about angels and demons, and prophecies about warriors... and... when I fled from him I stole a manuscript, from which I read many more things. But I could never have imagined that _you_ were one of them.

- Fortunately for me, that's not quite noticeable to the naked eye. So Monteleone taught you Latin?

- He taught me many things, but I had never given importance to that. I thought they were legends... and in any case I was terrified to talk about it.

- So Lara told you I was a Lux Veritatis.

- She also told me that all those like you were dead, and who had killed them. She spoke about Bathsheba... about his father... and of course, about that devil called Lilith. She spoke of many things, anyway...

He shook his head.

- I guess you had to know all that. Do you know why you're coming with us, don't you?

She looked at him with sweet eyes. To avoid problems, Kurtis was quick to respond:

- You run a great risk. It's true that I didn't have you in this, but now I'm responsible. I don't know why, but the Voice has chosen you as our guide. That's what she told us through your mouth, don't know if you remember.

The sweetness of her eyes turned into horror. Her fingers sank further into his arm.

- Me? And from what can I serve? What...?

- That's just what she knows now, but I'll try to find out. Demons love to brag about what they do or what they will do. For better or worse, you've been chosen by one of the oldest to be hers, judging by her behavior. I must tell you now that she's lurking and will return when she needs it. But you must know how to take advantage of it.

Maddalena shook her curls in a passionate denying.

- Never! I don't want to know anything about her! I just want her to leave me!

- Nothing could be done against her at the moment. You have to take advantage of this opportunity. Normally this kind of creatures comes to torture or kill you without more, but she seems to have other intentions for you. I'll help you, but you must stop being afraid and dispose yourself to take advantage of you have been chosen.

He got up, and Maddalena with him, still clinging to his arm. He was starting to notice a painful tingling in the skin. He gently pulled her away, but only managed to notice more those nails stuck into his arm.

- Giulia...

- You worried about me and took me with you. I would like to thank you...

She was too close to him. He felt her warm breath on his cheek and her curls that escaped from her bun brushed his face. Maddalena's sinuous fingers curled him in the neck, and she wasn't exactly the kind of woman whom a man could remain indifferent to her contact.

His first thought was that she was a beautiful woman and would be willing to do anything. Was not she in love? If he wanted, whatever might happen, and then...

_Then what?_, he thought, feeling angry. Lara was right when feeling outraged. What would he think of a man who spent all day following her earnestly with his eyes and touching her as soon as he can? What would he think of her, if she allowed that, or if she considered worthy taking advantage of it? Wouldn't he be angry? Wouldn't want to... to beat her? Both of them?

At the moment her lips touched already the corner of his mouth - she had approached too much - Kurtis firmly pushed her away, but to his surprise she resisted.

- No! – she shouted - You love me! I know!

- Can you tell me what are you talking about?

- You kissed me! You love me! But she holds you back...

- By God's sake, Giulia... - he growled - if you mean what happened on the Island, I could hardly have avoided such thing... I was hurt ...

- She keeps you on the pretext of expecting a baby! But she doesn't love you, she never loved you! She's a bitch, a fucking bitch that makes you unhappy and tries to separate us!

For a moment she stared at him in silence, and then Maddalena flushed.

- Sorry, I should not...

- First, you know about Lara as little as you know about me. - Kurtis said dryly - Nothing authorizes you to judge her like that. If you intend to earn my affection, that's certainly not the best way to start.

- Kurtis, I...

- I told you, but you didn't listen to me at the time. You're living a dream, something that's not real. Both Lara and I have already enough problems to keep an eye on your whim.

Deeply upset, he let go of her arm and headed towards the door, but she went after him.

- Forgive me! I shouldn't have talked like that! But... sometimes she's so... dry with you... I thought you were with her only for responsibility...

- You thought I was stupid, so. But there's how little you know about Lara. She doesn't need _anyone_ at all for raising a child, because for years she has managed to take care of herself completely alone. She didn't need me for _that_, if that's what you thought.

- But then... Why? When I first saw you at her side, you gave me the impression that you hated each other! I watched you for days, for days! And she avoided you and glared at you each time she saw you, and she despised you, I know!

Kurtis grabbed the doorknob and pulled it, but to his surprise, the door was closed. Who had closed it? He began to struggle, but was stuck.

- You know nothing. – he sputtered - What happened at that time between Lara and I is not your business, or anyone's. You're completely wrong with me, Giulia, and still more with Lara. You're here since very recently, and have no right to judge.

He yanked the damn knob. What the hell happened?

- Have you closed the door?

- Me? - Maddalena raised her eyebrows - But if I haven't moved from your side!

He returned to wrestling. Would it be broken? He gave a kick against the door. Suddenly, he felt so angry that he desired to start destroying the room.

_Lara, a bitch!_

- You mean you _really_ love her?

- For God's sake, Giulia! - he exploded, turning at once. She backed away, frightened by the look on his face - How shall I tell you? You're in love with a dream, a ghost, I told you I'm not the man you think! Nothing could make me leave Lara, do you understand?

The expression of the redhead turned to bitterness. For a brief moment, Kurtis imagined himself jumping to her and grabbing her neck. But what was he thinking? He looked around. The atmosphere was laden and heavy. The door, stuck. His head pounding...

_What's going on here?_

His ears buzzed. His vision blurred. Maddalena's voice turned shrill and began banging on his ears.

- For you, you bastard, I crossed the Mediterranean! I left those who could protect me and I had to sleep with so repugnant sailors to reach you. I sold that manuscript, the most valuable thing I had, so to save you. I offered myself to be tortured instead of you! What has she done for you? Could you tell me? What did that woman for you?

He leaned against the wall, covering his face with his hands. Maddalena, believing her passionate speech was taking effect, came back to him.

- Don't you notice anything strange in this room? - he gasped, since he had begun to sweat.

- Absolutely nothing. - Maddalena said, biting her lower lip - I never had anything in life and no one really loved me. And look, I'm not ugly or stupid. The only man I thought he loved me was more in love with himself and his fortune. All I wanted in my life is that someone loved me. When I saw you I thought the time had come, but she has ruined everything. Don't ask me not to hate her. I really hate her.

Kurtis had raised his view, looking around again, and in four strides he reached the window overlooking the terrace. With a jerk he tried to open it.

I was stuck.

He punched the glass.

- What happens with you? - she cried - You're acting like a madman!

- Someone has locked the room. There's no escape. – he put his fingers to the neck of his shirt and pulled him, suffocate - The environment is increasingly loaded.

Maddalena, smiling sweetly, came to him and began to unbutton the buttons on the neck, which readily yielded to her expert fingers. However, she didn't stop, and went slowly unbuttoning buttons and finding his skin.

- I think that Englishwoman has dazzled you. What can I do? She's not even as pretty as me, but... I'll have you in one way or another. If you don't want Giulia, the woman, you'll have Maddalena, the whore. What she doesn't know won't hurt her... I won't say anything... I promise...

Before he could even avoid it, she had unbuttoned his shirt completely and was sliding it over his shoulders and along his arms, intending to remove it. At that moment he felt her lips on his chest, but looking up, saw something in the ceiling.

It was like a dark spot, small at first. It was next to the lamp. Then, slowly, it began to spread, like a drop of ink in water. That darkness began to branch out and spread, reaching the ends of the ceiling, and then began to drip slowly on the walls, always branching out as a black root growing rapidly.

Maddalena's hands encircled his waist, pressing his skin moist with sweat with her fingertips, while her tongue, not more her lips, ran down his chest, neck, around his shoulders and down to his navel, and despite his body was reacting to those skilled stimuli, he couldn't look away from the blackness that had already reached the ground and poured around them, to darken the room completely...

And then began the song...

_Son of Light..._

He wanted to shout, _Giulia!_ and placed his hands on her shoulders to separate her from himself, but she laughed and began to tinker with the closing of his pants, and whispering in his ear:

- Let me do... I'm good at this... I'll make you feel like in heaven...

_Son of Light..._

The whole room was black. How could she not notice _that?_

The closure pants was now unfolded.

_Son of Light_

_Nothing can be done against us_

_In the end you'll have to overcome_

_Don't you see how lonely you are?_

Maddalena's fingers were introduced into the inside of his pants, toured his thighs, fumbled his groins, and she kept laughing playfully...

_Son of Light_

_Your grave is dug_

_What are you waiting for?_

_Don't you challenge us?_

_Great is the power of a woman...!_

Suddenly she pulled herself away and smiled deviously, clutched the zipper's collar of her track jacket and pulled it down, opening it. Her two breasts, white and soft, pink nipples, emerged from the canvas, and she wasn't wearing anything underneath, and after forcefully removed the garment, threw it aside. Kurtis observed, as in dreams, as the garment was swallowed by that fluctuating blackness which began to swell and gurgle, while that song, made by a hissing, choppy, breathless voice, continued...

_Son of Light_

_How easy it is to conquer you_

_Just one temptation..._

Maddalena was completely stripped and was now feverishly pressed against him. Her skin was so hot that he disliked it, since he was drowning for atmosphere was already as heavy as an anvil of lead no air to breathe. He tried to separate from her, reject her, gasping for air, but he had run out of all his forces, as swallowed by that blackness, vast blackness...

He slipped to the ground and she with him, kissing him violently. If only he could... breathe... move...

_Son of Light_

_Man of strong spirit_

_But weak of flesh_

_Look what you do_

_Who you're going to betray_

_Will she forgive you?_

_Before she dies..._

- Giulia! – he achieved to gasped - The... voices...!

_Before she dies..._

_She will know this..._

_And cry..._

- At last we're free! - the redhead panted, excited - I'm finally yours!

_Son of Light_

_Open your eyes_

_Watch what you have..._

At the time Maddalena mounted on him – was he lying on the floor? – she suddenly began to change before his eyes. Her skin, soft and freckled, wrinkled and shrunken, now blackened; her breasts withered and unhooked as two dry skins; her beautiful red hair turned white and fell off her head, revealing an ugly bald... her eyes, large and golden, became injected in blood and darkened...

Her face became completely deformed so he was soon looking at a living nightmare, a monster who laughed uproariously with bizarre laughs coming from a deformed mouth and rotted gums without teeth. A claw, provided with long nails and some mutilated fingers, walked up to his face...

- No! - he shouted, and then the creature darted back and screamed loud.

With a hop, he got up, while the thing hissed shrilly. Once again, the Don had come to his aid when his body had failed to him.

He crossed the room quickly towards the door, but suddenly the blackness was on him like an oil slick, clinging to his skin, and the feeling was as if someone had thrown hot metal on him. He kept crawling towards the door, groping, trying to get out while that thing shouted after him:

- You'll regret this, motherfucker! I'll make pay your pride! No one rejects me, no one! Do you hear? And less an unfortunate like you!

That voice was not hers, could not be hers, as the creature that crawled towards him, stretching its hooked claws, could not be _her_...

The knob was on fire and burned his hand. It didn't matter. He had to get out, get out as soons as possible...

_Son of Light_

_Your time is coming_

_This was a warning_

_You will loss what you love_

_You can't save her_

_Even giving your life_

_Which with pleasure we'll take with us..._

_... To the darkness..._

The door burst into pieces, and the vain reflected a bright rectangle of light, with a jet of air, fresh and pure air, which tore his fevered body drenched in sweat, which came into his lungs wounding him like a icy knife.

He took four steps, went outside and fell to his knees. A gush of blood came out through his nostrils. Then the world became water around him and fell sideways on the corridor.

(…)

The surgeon smiled at the boy, who looked at him expectantly over his mask. He just underwent a process of disinfection and sterilization as to be able to access the Critical Care area. Now they were next to Selma's bed. She seemed an ivory statue, lying motionless.

- I thought we can induce her to breathe on her own. - said the doctor - As you know, your friend now breathes through this ventilator. If we switch it off, she may die. But sometimes it has worked to switch it off. I mean – he added at Zip's spiteful glance- according to some experts, the temporary disconnection of the respirator can help to stimulate the breathing apparatus. It has been estimated that at least in 30% of cases it helps a person to leave the comatose state for forcing him or her to use their own occasional respiratory mechanisms...

- Wait, wait - said Zip, dizzy – Are you telling me she'll start breathing only if we remove that tube? Will she awake?

The doctor smiled patiently.

- Not sure, but this way she's likely to start breathing on her own, and that would be an incentive to get her out of the coma. I can't promise anything, but it's better than doing nothing.

Zip nodded. Then the doctor came and gently tore the tapes adhered to the rubber tube which plunged between Selma's lips. He took the tube a little, and then he approached to the machine and disconnected the life support mechanism.

For a few seconds that lasted hours, Zip stared at Selma's face, asking, pleading silently her to breathe.

_Selma, please. Breathe._

The surgeon looked at the clock. She was not breathing.

- Connect it again! - Zip shouted, upset.

- Not yet.

Not breathing. Was her face turning purple?

- Please! She's choking!

- Quiet. She can't feel anything.

He waited a little longer, but became increasingly nervous. And if then she couldn't breathe again? What if she died? What if he had consented to this madness and he was guilty...?

- Enough! She needs air!

- Very good.

Calmly, the surgeon reconnected the ventilator. Again the patient, who hadn't breathed or given the slightest hint of reaction, had oxygen again.

The doctor sighed, turned and gave a handkerchief to Zip, whispering:

- You have blood in your mouth.

He neither had noticed that he had bitten his own lips while the test. He mechanically passed the fabric across his lips.

- Come on. We'll speak outside.

The boy went obediently to the outside. He was obviously fighting back tears. The doctor felt bad.

- Come on, come on. - he patted him on the back - No one has success in this the first time. She's a young girl, so the more chances to try, and each new time we'll be closer to success.

- I have fear of her suffering... or her choking...

- None of that will happen. I told you, she's in a coma, she won't feel anything even if receiving a hard prick. Trust me, boy, we'll get this girl out. Do you agree?

Zip sighed and looked at the blood-stained handkerchief. He thought he should return it but then felt ashamed… he had to wash it, right?

- Keep it, son. You'll need.

(…)

_He had become a spark. No longer a man._

_He plowed darkness at high speed, incandescent, silent. There was no air whistling around him, only blackness. Down and down, sinking into the abyss, through layers and layers of earth, air, fire, until focusing a core away from it all, he did not know whether up or down in the world, or at its core._

_The rock opened and revealed a huge cavity that seemed carved in ivory. In the middle of the room, a stone altar with a glass bowl on it. It seemed like a huge blue flame which fluctuated suspended over the bowl, but he couldn't be sure._

_And there in the throne that had broad front of the altar, a tall, high, monstrously large shape, was lying with its arms holding the handles. Was he that saw it huge, or it was huge in size?_

_She was naked and was, not, seemed a woman. Her head was sunk upon her breast and a large, thick mat of hair was covering her albino face, breasts and belly, sliding to the ground._

_The terrifying and gigantic lady raised then her face, and a flash of white light shone between the locks of hair. At first he thought that her face was all light, then he saw that those features were a beautiful but rigid mask._

_A silver mask._

_A breeze, coming from who knows where, swept the very long and soft hair and pulled it back, exposing the firm and white belly, her ivory breasts, her whole nudity away from hair. But she was so stiff that seemed not to breathe._

_The mask had neither holes for eyes, nor for nose, nor for mouth. Was she blind and dumb? Or was she... actually not breathing? With a terrifying premonition, he perhaps sensed that she was dead, or that she was something that didn't need to breathe... or see... or hear..._

_Suddenly, She moved. Slowly she separated her back of the throne and leaned forward slightly. At the moment, he was trapped by Her influence and was dragged towards Her, to fall collapsed at Her feet._

_The mask began to crack. At first it was just a crack, then the whole thing splintered and began to fall away from Her face. Among the fractures in the metal began to shine a bright, burning light, so painful that he couldn't continue watching Her and turned, laying his eyes on the altar._

_The blue flame was extinguished, and the bowl was filled only with a strange black liquid. At first it was a dark puddle which was growing, and growing, until it overflowed the boundaries of the crystal, and then keep on overflowing, dripping on the altar, spreading increasingly spilling over the marble table and splashing the ground._

_It was blood..._

_A crunching metal and its subsequent patter startled him. The mask had crashed into the ground, and light flooded the chamber to make all disappear around..._

_He tried to lift his eyes... he tried to look... he should... look at... Her..._

_But when he managed to stare at the face that had appeared behind the mask, he felt as filled with immense pain in the inside, could not resist looking at such supernatural creature, and burst into a thousand pieces._

(…)

Lara leaned over him and put a hand on his forehead. He was burning.

The scandal caused by the door's outbreak and Kurtis fainting in the middle of the aisle had attracted lots of onlookers. Lara had taken advantage of this intrusion to get help to lift Kurtis' heavy body and deposit it in the bed of their suite, and then reject all requests to be taken to hospital, given that he didn't regained consciousness.

Of course, what everyone took for a simple seizure, for Lara was something more serious, though she didn't understand. She knew Kurtis was not prone to any kind of attack, and the fact of that blood flowing from his nose was due more to the result of extreme stress than anything else.

From what she was certain was that he shouldn't be taken to hospital. That would not bring anything, just wasting time. That was something else. She wished the old Marcus was there, who probably would have been able to identify and even revive this fading, but he wasn't there and she wouldn't lose time trying to contact him. She would manage this alone.

Having found that he was now breathing well and had stopped bleeding, she rose from his side and went into the hall. There she found a disoriented hotel employee, collecting, with an expression of absolute astonishment, one by one, thousands of chips in which had become the door of Maddalena's suite.

- How is your husband? – he muttered, watching, impressed, as those wood chips melted in his hand.

- Not my husband. All right.

She started to go to the frame, with door fragments still hanging from it, but the employee then said:

- _All right?_ Damn! I can't imagine how anyone could be _all right_ after launching himself against a door like this. He should have cracked his skull!

- I'm sorry he broke the door. I'll bear the cost, of course.

The young man laughed.

- _Break?_ He hasn't broken it, he has _shattered_ it! Neither the best sumo wrestler would achieve in doing _that_ to a door. I can't explain this!

_Neither do I_, thought Lara as she weaved through the remains of the door and scanned with a critical eye the redhead's suite. At first glance she saw Kurtis' shirt and belt thrown into a corner, and with them, the scattered clothing of a woman.

She felt a wave of heat that lit her face and clenched her teeth. She would have to be born dumb for not immediately interpret what this meant. Kurtis didn't seem to have fled from the Maddalena's beautiful curves; that seemed clear. So from what had he fled?

In four strides she reached the bathroom's door and pounded on it.

- Giul... Giulia? - Not used to call her like that, for Lara she was still Maddalena, the prostitute.

She heard a heavy silence.

- Giulia! I know you're there! Open!

The employee had stopped collecting bits of wood and was interested in watching the scene. Lara's patience ran out.

- If you make me break this door - she hissed - you're going to pay it.

Finally, the bolt creaked across and she hurried to open it. When entering, she saw Maddalena curled back on the bathroom floor, next to the tub, wrapped in a short bathrobe and a strange glance in her eyes.

Lara was quick to close the door behind her, more to prevent the employee's gossips no than for fear of being seen. She crossed her arms and looked sternly at the redhead, who was still staring at her.

- What happened? - she asked.

Maddalena slowly raised her eyes. She had her hair revolt, and if the scattered underwear was not enough proof, it was visible that she was naked under her half unbuttoned robe.

- I don't know...

- Don't lie to me!

Lara took a deep breath. She was not going to lose control. She wouldn't be influenced by some lying clothes, or allow this slut to force her to make a sad spectacle.

- I haven't lied to you.

- Do you really think, Giulia Manfredi, I was born yesterday? You think so?

Maddalena looked away to a side and muttered vaguely:

- I have no idea what you're talking about...

Lara rushed at her and grabbed her arm. She was quite strong and managed to lift her in one sitting. In doing so she ran to unbutton her bathrobe, and although this shouldn't have mattered, Maddalena had a fit of shame and tried to cover her breasts and the triangle of reddish hair.

- I bet you weren't trying to cover yourself when _he_ was before you, right? - Lara hissed in her ear.

Maddalena broke free of her grip and fell back against the wall, fastening the robe and casting her look of resentment.

- Well, yes – she admitted - I've tried to seduce him. I wanted to sleep with him. And it may be more, since I must inform you that he didn't seem upset with the idea. Men are so fickle, right? At a time they recite poems of love... and the next they're in the arms of another woman.

Lara's mouth twisted into a sinister smile. She had a huge desire to slap her, but apparently that's what she wanted. She was going to prove that she couldn't so easily provoke her.

- I have no time to waste on nonsense. Kurtis is unconscious and he's not retrieved. What have you done?

Maddalena's face then reflected concern.

- I haven't done anything ... except that. I was with him when... he began to sweat, and left me screaming out the door... which he broke... I don't know how...

Lara went away from her, opened the door and examined the room. But this was nothing special, except that the air was somewhat loaded.

_And with good reason_, she thought angrily, _the atmosphere is heated._

- If he doesn't recover - she added – I'll blame you, you know?

- Why would I hurt him? - protested Maddalena - I love him. I've done a lot for him.

- _Of course_. - Lara said, unable to keep a note of sarcasm.

She approached to the scattered clothes and picked up Kurtis' shirt and belt. At the end of the day, they had cost really expensive and she wasn't going to leave them on the ground.

Before heading out the door (the employee was gone) Lara turned and, holding a finger at the redhead, said:

- If I hear you've had something to do with what may have hurt Kurtis, begin to pray. I can bear with you walking around him, but I won't tolerate you to take advantage of it to hurt him.

(…)

He opened his eyes slowly. A tear slid down from the corner of his eye to the temple, to dive into his hair. He wanted to raise his hand to catch it, but it seemed surprisingly heavy. It was other fingers, slender and agile, those who did that, and turning his head slightly – which hurt him enough to burst – he saw Lara.

A feeling of love, pain and guilt crossed his mind. Then, an unspoken terror about what she might have thought of seeing him naked from the waist up and with his pants unzipped his in a room whose occupant was naked. The terror didn't last too much. What was done was done, and in fact he hadn't done _anything_. But he almost had... or maybe not? It was too painful to think, with his head pounding...

- Lara... – he muttered.

- Quiet. You're in our room. How are you?

Finally he managed to raise his hand and touched his head.

- It hurts me all over... as if I had been beaten. What happened?

- I was hoping you'd tell me, as Maddalena has been unable, or _unwilling_, to tell me much.

The angry glance in her eyes confirmed she knew _that_. And how couldn't she know? Even a fool would have known such thing, and she was resentenced clever.

- Lara, I'm sorry. – he mumbled, sitting up - I went to see her to sort things out... to try to solve a problem...

- ...and the problem cast on you. - Lara said mockingly, but stopped when she saw his wounded glance.

- I understand you're angry. What appears is... different from what actually happened, but it looks like.

- More than angry, I'm scared. If you had sex with Maddalena, I would have you skinned alive, but instead you've vanished while bleeding after crushing a door. What happened? Tell me at once!

Kurtis ran his hand across his wet forehead. The rest of his body, arms, chest and back, were watered with sweat.

- I went to talk to her to reason. I neither want to see you angry nor her making illusions. But instead of fixing it, she got angry and started arguing, and suddenly the air became heavy and I started to feel sick. I got nervous and tried to get out, but everything was closed, the door, the windows were jammed. She seemed not to notice anything. Suddenly strength failed me, and she leaned over me and began to undress me, and then she undressed herself. I refused because I didn't want to have sex with her, I swear this by what I love most, Lara, which it's you... but I didn't rejected her because I suddenly felt so weak that I couldn't even raise my arm, and then the ectoplasm, and the song ...

- Wait a minute... Ectoplasm?

He nodded.

- You know what that is?

- I've heard of it, but... is it a ghost?

- The residue of a demon or spirit, which absorbs energy and changes environment. Only I could see it and the damn almost killed me. Then... I fainted and had a vision.

Lara raised his hand:

- Would that ectoplasm hurt Maddalena?

- No.

- Well, then, is clear.

- You can't suspect of her.

- What do you mean?

- She was terrified with the idea of a demon using her as a vehicle. She won't pact with them.

- In exchange for having sex with you? _Of course_ she'll pact!

She got out of bed. There was a strong determination on her face.

- Now I suppose you're going to defend her.

Kurtis slowly shook his head.

- She said some things I won't forgive.

- Don't tell me. Sure they were on me.

- I wouldn't say anything. Anyway, it still seems exaggerated to me she agreed anything with that Voice, let alone to hurt me.

Lara stood a moment in silence. Then she added:

- No more fighting, at least until I have more proofs. We can't waste a second more on this nonsense. Tomorrow will come to the hotel those colleagues I've spoken, who will help us to reach Damascus and find that temple. Until then, you must rest.

"And while I'll keep an eye on our lovely redhead. You may know a lot about demons, Kurtis, and that's something I won't discuss. But I know much more about women... and what we may be able to do when we're in love. "

(…)

The sirens arrived like a flash shooting, then left. The brief flash of red light awakened Giselle, who was half asleep. She blinked and yawned, running a hand through her hair. Amid the room's gloom, she saw the robust Schäffer, naked, approaching to the curtain and pulling it away slightly to scrutinize the already empty street.

- What time is it? - muttered the scientist.

- Sirens of the police. - said the bully, ignoring her – They should have already discovered the body.

- For the hour - she continued, casting a lazy glance at the clock digital bedside - sure he already looks awful. Far better.

Schäffer dropped the curtain and turned to her sleepy mate. His eyes displayed a hard glance.

- How can you worry about that now? – he scolded her – We're being too reckless. In all probability that old whore and the brat who goes with her have already identified you. Maybe now the police have our pictures hanging all over the town! We can't stay here any longer, unless you want to see the sky behind bars for the rest of your life.

Giselle got up slowly and stretched, as if she gave a shit the police might be looking for her.

- We haven't finished yet.

- Damn, Giselle! You killed the girl and the nerd. Tell me, what can harm us now an old Indian woman and a girl who even doesn't know how to speak English? They are so utterly insignificant that's a complete waste of time thinking about killing them!

- I guess you're right. But I'm not satisfied. Everyone should pay.

- Now it would be stupid to stay here any longer.

He walked up to her and placed his knee on the bed. Seeing him coming, she made a gesture of rejection - who could understand her? It was not even half an hour ago she had let him to have sex with her with total docility, and now she seemed to resist - but he easily beat her strength holding her wrists and kissed her on the mouth with all the rudeness he could. She turned her head in disgust.

- Monster! You've bitten me! - and touched her swollen lip.

- If you want, I can give now my lip for you to bite, pretty. - he smiled - But let's go. My men have transmitted to me some information that will be much more interesting.

- Even more than the Lux Veritatis and his bitch are at the road to Damascus? Because if we have to give up the old and the girl, I'll go for them, whatever says my wayward daughter.

- More yet. Before going for them, as we'll go if my doctor ordered so, we'll stop to settle accounts with the Healer.

Giselle raised her eyebrows.

- The old Marcus? But was he not with them?

- Apparently he insisted on staying in Meteora's monastery. And you know, not only him but all that cursed community of monks, have worked a lot with our hated enemies...

The blonde's smile was widening. Then she contorted it into a grimace.

- They killed Karel.

- And Gunderson that, relatively speaking, was also a great leader. We still have many men and the surprise factor. Tell me, pretty doctor, what's more appealing now?

Giselle smiled again.

(…)

- Madam... - Radha stammered, fighting with that language which was not yet familiar to her - Madam, please ...

But Marie was not listening. Nestled next to the wall, and with her face turned towards it, Marie was crying with all the helplessness of the world. Around her, came and went different police officers who had been following the withdrawal of firefighters.

They removed the charred remains of books, records, documents... even Zip's computer had burned and destroyed. But it wasn't for this Marie was crying, but for who was lying under a blanket of plastic, with his head crushed, amid the ruined library.

- We shouldn't have left him alone... we shouldn't have left him alone!

So Marie wept and wailed for hours, stroking her black hair. Radha didn't understand what could have they made to help Ivanoff, but still weighed on her soul Marie's pain and the death of this good man whom she hadn't come to know very much, but who had always managed a glance of sympathy at her.

And more after knowing that has made again by that horrible woman, who had cut her fingers without flinching. Radha wanted to hate her as much as Marie hated her at the time, and mourn with her, but she was too stunned and exhausted to react.

Ivanoff's body was lifted and taken away. Then they insisted on following them. Now it was Radha who was holding Marie's arm. She was absent and crestfallen. After a while, she overcame the pain and gritted her teeth.

- Did you know him? - she stammered again after a while.

- Just as much as you know him, girl! - lamented the woman again - But he was a good man. A good man! These things should not happen. Never should have happened something like this...

But according her erratic glance, Radha appeared that she wasn't talking only about Ivanoff's murder. And remembering what Lara had tried to explain the last few days she had been with her, the image of a forest of crosses appeared before her eyes, and shuddered.

- We have released the two suspect's sketches, according the descriptions you've provided, Mrs. Cornel. - she heard the inspector's voice - We have also made contact with our colleagues in the Czech Republic... and... it seems you were right. We owe you an apology. This will weigh on our consciences, as the death of this good man could have been avoided.

Marie strongly inspired and lifted her reddened eyes.

- Stop talking. What must be done now is to catch that bitch and her followers. No one can do anything for Vlad.

He nodded.

- We'll start a search around Brasov. We will widen the circle as we move forward. They can't have gone very far yet, so we expect to find them.

When he left, leaving them alone in the office, Radha bowed and took the wrinkled hand of the Indian woman.

- Madam... we should talk to _bahanji_ Lara... she must know what's going on. Maybe so they could avoid danger.

Slowly, mechanically, Marie nodded.

(…)

Maddalena was sitting alone in the dark.

Still half naked, half wrapped with the bathrobe. A deaf and blind anger was eating her in the inside.

_Giulia..._

There it was again. Damn. Cursed be her a thousand times.

- Out of here! – she hissed - Go to hell!

Was she laughing?

_I've been there since immemorial times. But now you can't kick me out, beautiful Giulia, I'm part of you..._

- Depart, spawn. Damn you.

_Giulia, why do you hate me? I only mean to make you happy... Do you see? I haven't mastered your beautiful body... I respected you..._

- But you haven't given to me whom I loved.

There was a heavy silence.

_I gave him to you... didn't I give you him helpless? Haven't you had him in your arms?_

- You scared him. You hurt him. I hate you.

_It was necessary to use force. He's a very powerful Lux Veritatis, we can't cuddle with him. It was necessary..._

- I almost have him, he was almost mine, just for me, but you've ruined everything.

_How ungrateful are you, Giulia! Who but I has delivered him on a silver platter to you?_

- You scared him. You hurt him. Get out of here!

There was silence. Had she gone? Trembling, she crawled to the bedside table and took the holycard of Saint Lucy, her beloved protectress. She kissed her.

_That slain virgin has no power against us. She's happy wandering beside the One for whom she was slaughtered so long ago. Instead, Giulia, I'm with you. Don't waste your prayers._

- You made him to hate me and she now suspects of me.

_Things didn't go as expected, Giulia, that's all. He's strong and powerful, even for a being like me. He, stupid, doesn't know how powerful he is. Better if he continues ignoring it. The next time he will be yours._

- I should... I should tell him that you're here. Make him to expel you.

_My naive Giulia... he already knows. He has noticed my presence, which hurts him like a knife. And as he increasingly becomes weaker when fighting, I'm stronger. No one can kick me out, beautiful Giulia._

The redhead looked at the sweet Saint reproduced at the picture. She had dreamed a thousand times with enjoying the innocence and simplicity of the martyr. And instead, she was a prostitute who talked with demons...

_There's no good or evil. Nothing is as it seems. Stop looking at her. She died so long ago, but you're alive. She's on the altar, but you'll get a better reward._

The holycard was burning. With a cry, Maddalena released it, and watched in horror as the flames consumed the fragile paper, reducing it to ashes, and then disappeared.

_I've made a promise. He will be yours. And you will trample her face. When all is finished, when you have accomplished what I ask, he will be yours. He'll be docile and accommodating to you, like a slave. And he will love you in absolute despair._

(…)

_Pater noster qui is in caelis_

_sanctificetur nomen tuum_

_Adveniat regnum tuum_

_fiat voluntas tua sicut in caelo et in terra._

_Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie_

_et dimitte nobis debita nostra_

_sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris._

_Et ne nos inducas in tentationem._

_Sed liberanos a malo._

- _Amen..._ - concluded the old Cardinal, barely rising to the pew where he had been praying late into the night.

He crossed himself and began his slow transition to the living room. His legs hurt so much... he was too old and needed to rest, but the days continued to happen, slowly, creeping, extending his bad old age, while God was reluctant to taking him with Himself.

A chill of terror ran through his aching joints when he saw a figure long and slim sitting rigidly in his chair. His hand, trembling, shot to the switch and lit the room.

The woman who was sitting there didn't even blink. If that was a woman... shaking, the cardinal fumbled his cassock seeking the scapular, because that creature with such supernatural beauty _couldn't_ be a woman.

- I'm not an angel. – she gently responded, as if she had read his mind – Something of angel I have in my veins, but not too much. Enough to come here tonight, to give you eternal rest.

She stretched a long arm, wrapped in a white wide sleeve, and said cardinal to have a seat near her. But the Cardinal didn't move.

- If you are a spawn of Satan... I urge you to leave this Holy See.

- I won't last in abandon it, but you will too. If you don't want to take a seat, Ercole Monteleone, you will remain standing, but then when you appear before your God, you couldn't tell Him a Nephilim didn't keep due respect to an old dying mortal.

The gnarled old fingers hooked in the scapular. He tugged it nervously and dropped it in the chest, at her sight.

- At least you're not trying to scare me with a crucifix. - she murmured, and then said - I guess the Amazonian, or even your wealthy nephew, taught you about me.

- My nephew is dead, Bathsheba of the _Nephilia_, as you already know. – the Cardinal murmured, sorry.

She nodded slowly. She kept an arm stretched along the sofa, but then the Cardinal captured a small bundle wrapped in cloth resting on her lap.

- He was murdered by Lara Croft. The same woman who came to ask you for information. Your nephew's body must be still unburied when you paved her way in this very room.

Bathsheba couldn't have been crueler with her comment. However she said that with such sweet and calm voice that she seemed a mother talking to her daughter.

The Cardinal grabbed the back of a chair so as not to faint and clenched his lips. Then he said:

- I don't know if female Nephilim who once trod the earth had that bittersweet contrast of beauty and cruelty you have. Your father wasn't like that. He was just cruel. Perhaps it is because he was male, but I can't assure.

A satisfied smile surfaced Bathsheba's lips. The Cardinal shivered again to see her little white teeth.

- I thought I would have to force you to tell this, Your Eminence.

- How I met your father? Cursed be the day I did. I haven't had any peace since that day. The Lord has turned His face away from me due to my sin.

The Cardinal took two steps and, exhausted, sat in the chair he had previously rejected, making a gesture of pain when his swollen joints doubled. She looked at him with indifference, without helping him to sit.

- Have you come to be told about that, right? – he sighed.

- I guess you wouldn't talk so brazenly and with such familiarity with him. - she hissed and fell back on the couch, like a threatened snake.

- I'm old. I can't fear anything... except God's judgment.

He glanced at the fireplace. It was cold and his bones froze of pure pain. While still thinking about how tiring it would be up to go on again, the fireplace suddenly came on and began to burn alone, generating light and heat more quickly and with more intensity.

Bathsheba's gleaming green eyes reflected the flames.

- Tricks like this are easy to do. – she whispered - But I'm waiting for very hard tests.

- And who was about to prove you? - replied the Cardinal - If you wanted, you could send the demons to collect you if you stumble on something, just as the angels would have saved our Lord Jesus Christ if He had asked them to do so.

- I won't engage in theological disputes - said Bathsheba - but just as your Messiah did what he did to pass a test without which he wouldn't have been dignified, I should expect the same.

He bowed slightly to the Cardinal, and a lock of soft raven hair slid down on her breast. The old man was forced to look away.

- You knew my father. The one who called himself Joachim Karel. Why did he come to you?

He was still staring into the flames.

- I guess I have no choice but to answer...

- The sooner you do, the sooner will end your suffering.

- _Madre di Dio!_ – he said – You've come to kill me, then.

She arched her well drawn eyebrows:

- To kill you? It's not necessary to kill you, old man. I'm here to announce you won't pass from tonight.- she gathered the folds of her skirt - I've been busy preparing for the test that awaits me, but I need you to tell me what you know about my father and why he came, and what did he say. I need his guidance, but he died, and all I have is an amorous woman who knows only to mourn him.

The Cardinal made a face.

- Why don't you ask your awful goddess?

Bathsheba smiled coldly.

- Would you ask your God about Judas Iscariot?

The Cardinal frowned.

- I don't see why I should help you.

- Because like it or not, is the last thing you'll do. Otherwise, don't help me, I can get that information differently, but in that case, you won't have a good death.

Ercole Monteleone didn't seem to listen. He looked at the flames, absorbed.

- I've sinned... listening to that devil was sin. I was young, and ambitious, and I wanted to know. He existed since the dawn of times... he knew things that nobody knew and had seen many eras and empires pass, rise and fall... I fell under his temptation.

- Tell me about it.

- He called himself Joachim Karel, but it wasn't his real name. All Nephilim have a mortal name and a holy name. You were called Bathsheba by your mother. – he said looking at her –Did your Lady gave a Holy Name to you?

- You know a lot. You will also know that name, being sacred, is also secret, and no mortal should know.

- True...

He remained oblivious, staring at Bathsheba's wrapped bundle. What was there?

He looked away, and started his story.

(…)

_At first she thought it was a dream. Then the fog lifted slightly, and she could see a figure before her._

_She was surprised to see that she was Selma._

_She was stiff and silent in front of her. She was standing with arms at sides, her black hair loose in the back, some falling over her shoulders. She looked at her with her dark, expressive eyes wide open, staring at her as if surprised or frightened._

_And the strange thing is that she was dressed... with a kind of white nightgown... or was it a hospital gown? It fell straight as a starched fabric, but ended above the knees._

_- Selma? – she stammered - Is it you?_

_In trying to take a step towards her, she noticed something cold underfoot, and saw that she was, barefoot, on a surface of dark water. The slight waves also licked Selma's bare feet, but she kept looking, very stiff._

_Suddenly, it began to blow a gentle breeze, which shook the girl's dark hair. She moved a little more thoroughly stunned by not noticing a bottom under her feet, and saw that her lips were blue and her skin was covered with a thin film of sweat._

_- Selma! – she screamed again - What is it? Are you okay?_

_For a moment, even the whisper of the breeze stopped. And then she saw her moving her lips, gently at first, then frantically. But no sound came from them._

_She went running towards her. The girl's status anguished her. She kept moving her lips as if talking, and suddenly her rigid face transmuted into a mask of anguish._

_- Selma! Can't hear you! What are you saying?_

_She grabbed her by the shoulders. The touch was real, firm, but she was cold as a corpse. She shook her vigorously, almost angrily, but she kept moving her lips... without saying anything..._

(…)

She woke with a scream. Then she sat up suddenly, then felt a faint, and when she turned almost slipped off the bed. Kurtis held her.

- Okay, okay! It's over.

Her trembling hand fumbled the nightstand and lit the lamp. She looked around and saw Kurtis blinking at the sudden light.

- You scared me to death. - he gasped - What happened to you?

Lara turned to lay down, removed some strands of sweaty hair from her forehead and muttered:

- Nothing. A silly dream. A nightmare.

She turned off the light, not wanting him to see her pale face. Why a stupid nightmare was able to upset her like that? Was she becoming weak?

Kurtis' strong arms surrounded her waist, and she felt his warm breath on her neck.

- You should tell me.

- I don't see why.

- Your life was saved for telling you my dream. Do you remember?

Lara smiled and unconsciously touched the still quite young scar, which had been left by the silver bullet in her arm and chest.

- But I'm not a Lux Veritatis. My dreams don't predict anything.

Kurtis smiled in the darkness.

- Tell me. – he demanded softly.

Lara sighed.

- I've seen Selma yelling, but she didn't emit any sound. It was very weird, but I'm telling you, it's just silly.

His fingers reached for her arm gently, feeling her skin. He had extraordinarily warm hands.

- We can call her if you want. You'll be calmer.

- I'm not nervous...

But her body didn't seem to say the same. She was shivering. Kurtis put one arm around her waist and another in her chest and hugged her, giving her heat.

Why she had worried for just a dream? There was nothing particular in it...

(…)

Maddalena ran her finger across the picture's frame and went down. In the large reception desk, her eyes immediately caught the pair of twins, two tall men, who would be forty, blond and ruddy skin, animatedly arguing sitting on the sofas in the reception. All tourists who passed by stared at them, because it was rare to see two people who were so alike.

Lara went downstairs, passed next to the redhead and went directly towards the twins, who seeing her rose in unison. They were a strange couple.

- Lara! - exclaimed one.

- How beautiful you are! - cried the other, making a mocking bow.

- Giulia, Kurtis - she said, looking at the ex-legionnaire, who had just come down after Maddalena - these are William and Wilbur Hawks, from Harvard University. Their specialty is Phoenician archeology.

The two men smiled.

- Don't try to know who William is and who's Wilbur. – one said in a festive tone – Even our mother is not sure yet.

- Wait, there's a way. Wilbur is gay. - added the other.

- In fact, when I have no lover, I make use of my brother. – added the first one.

- Don't believe him. Apart from fag, he's a liar.

Kurtis didn't know what surprised him more, these men behaving like kids, or that both had gone into precisely the same specialty in life.

- William and Wilbur have a very corrosive humor. - Lara interjected.

- We learned from you, sister! - mocked one of them (was the gay, or his brother? It was impossible to distinguish them).

Fortunately, at that time appeared the restaurant manager, who told them their table was available for meal.

(…)

- So Lilith's temple, huh? - later said who appeared to be William - You ask too much. This excavation has been closed about ten years.

- Under what conditions and for what reasons? - asked Lara.

The ruddy archaeologist made a gesture of weariness.

- You know... as usual. Syria is a much requested place by the Israelites... I don't know how long they can continue the occupation. And foreigners have never been well received, and even less we, who involved in removing a past with which, Jews and Muslims, are not identified at all.

- Really? - Lara's eyebrows rose - Is not Lilith a deity emanating from the Jewish tradition?

Wilbur laughed.

- Sister, if orthodox Jews hear what you've just said, they will lapidate you for blasphemy. Jews and Muslims are monotheists, as everyone knows, and they will take really bad a joke about it. Lilith was a Babylonian goddess.

- But also Adam's first wife. And now you'll tell me Adam is also a Babylonian creation, right?

The archaeologist's eyes darkened.

- I know where you want to go, sister. In short, what my brother wanted to say is that... technically there's no such temple of Lilith. The enclosure we dug so long ago is a Phoenician temple... and as such, dedicated to Astarte.

- You mock me! - Lara laughed.

At that time, Maddalena gently bowed towards the twin beside her, who was William, and said:

- You'll have to excuse my ignorance, but I know very little about goddesses and myths. What is the difference between Lilith and Astarte?

- No one! - Jumped Lara - You're laughing at me!

- My dear - Wilbur cleared his throat - don't be so prosaic. Astarte was the mother goddess of fertility, war, and the supreme deity of all Phoenicians. As such...

- ... she has exactly the same functions as the Lilith of Babylon. They're the same goddess, Wilbur! - Lara insisted. - This is a syncretism; an association of two figures coming from a triple source, Hebrew, Phoenician and Babylonian. Lilith is Astarte, and Astarte is Lilith.

William looked uncomfortable.

- I don't think the Phoenicians appreciated your assimilation, but anyway... what I want to say is that this temple, Lara, is named after Astarte. It's a place of worship for the goddess mother... Are you sure that's what you want?

- We look for the entrance to Hell. - added a sinister voice.

The brothers stared at Kurtis, who had spoken. Maddalena looked at him tenderly.

- Hell, brother. - Wilbur mumbled - I thought the cat got your tongue, and now you tell that. Very funny.

- Do I have appearance of being kidding? - said the aforementioned, arching an eyebrow.

Lara smiled wistfully. It seemed it wasn't the first time that thought, whatever it was, was going through her mind.

- Never did you see anything strange in that excavation? - she added.

- Strange? What the hell do you mean? - growled William – It was a huge and beautiful temple, but reduced to little more than ruins. Then those fundamentalist bastards came and expelled us at gunpoint. They flew all the digging... all our work... – he clenched his fist – They destroyed what was my life. That of my brother. All our hopes and dreams. And all for a shit about politics and fundamentalism!

Lara thought, seeing him so frustrated, he seemed Selma. Selma, whose work also had been destroyed.

_Selma... who shouted at her, unable to speak..._

She shuddered.

- They might not destroy it for political reasons.

- Of course! They hate Western people and their way of digging in the past.

-Are you sure you didn't see anything unusual in that temple?

- I did.

Who had spoken was Wilbur, whose delicate face had darkened slightly.

- What do you mean? - muttered William - Don't listen to this paranoid!

- You, brother, you don't see beyond your nose - muttered the other - but I did see something.

- Nonsense!

But the other had already turned towards Kurtis.

- He knows what I mean. You said the entrance to Hell. - he laughed - Yes, yes, brother... you're not kidding. Neither do I. The Gates of Hell!

Maddalena sat back and looked at her hands. They trembled. She tightly linked them. That discussion was insane.

- You see monsters everywhere, Wilbur. - William seemed upset - It was just an ordinary temple, Lara. A half-buried structure on earth, with a large pool of offerings, but that's all. Sorry, that was all, and nothing remains of it. They destroyed it, my friend, so there's nothing you can work with. Neither tunnels, nor secret galleries, nor traps, nor treasures shining in the darkness. Nothing, Lara.

But Lara stared at Kurtis, who in turn stared at Wilbur. She couldn't be more thrilled, because something told her that Kurtis hadn't opened his mouth for free. He never said anything if it wasn't worth saying it. It was as if he had seen or read something in Wilbur's eyes or mind, and was responsible somehow to extract that information. Looking away from him, she caught Maddalena's resentful and envious eyes, who somehow had wanted to participate in this intimacy... and which was theirs alone.

- Through the study of certain sources - then said Lara - very vague, yes, but equally valuable, we concluded that there's something in that area... I don't know how to define it... perhaps an entry, or link to an alternate world, another dimension.

William rolled his eyes.

- God, Lara. For what did you call us? Do you think we are Agents Mulder and Scully?

- I don't have called you for nothing, folks. I need your help. No one knows better than you that place. If there's anything... well, in any case you've right to access. Also, if you could reopen the excavation...

Wilbur seemed lost, and plunged into terrible thoughts. He glanced at Kurtis, overwhelmed by his penetrating gaze, then gasped:

- I don't think... it wouldn't be adequate...

- Sometimes you're exasperating. - snapped his brother, and then turned his attention back to Lara – It's very dangerous. Fundamentalists could go back and kill us. And the government is not able now to get into these issues...

Suddenly, Wilbur threw back his chair. The sound was so creaky that William stopped and threw a sour look on his brother.

- You're a naive fool. - Wilbur snapped, his voice shaking – You're like the mouse that worries about the cat, but doesn't stop to think _who_ might have sent the cat to destroy us.

William snorted.

- Yeah, sorry, I hadn't thought about it. The evil Lilith-Astarte has risen from her grave and has summoned all the Israelites to occupy Syria and expel the Yankee invader. What a fool I am, if it was obvious!

William's ironic words only managed to enrage Wilbur, who jumped from the chair. Lara started to rise to avoid possible discussion, but then felt Kurtis' warm hand holding her by the wrist. He didn't look at her, because he kept staring at Wilbur, but she understood the warning.

The archaeologist's face was even redder than natural, which it seemed impossible.

- You moron! – he snapped. Some diners turned to look at them – I don't talk about the damn fundamentalists. I'm talking about the creatures that attacked my crew when excavating the offerings' pit! Those with a human face!

- Manticores? - Lara leaned forward, excited – You're talking about manticores?

But Wilbur's face was deformed into a mask of panic.

- He already knew that! – he held out a trembling finger towards Kurtis - He has seen... he has also seen them...! _They come to destroy us!_

Maddalena screamed when she saw the man about to faint. She jumped at him and barely had time to hold him before he collapsed, white as wax, and with his terrified eyes fixed on Kurtis, who had not moved an inch.

(…)

- Please! Don't tell me you believe in such bullshit!

- Your brother has suffered a panic attack. - calmly explained Kurtis – It's normal in the case of manticores. Those who manage to overcome the fear of seeing them, will remember them throughout life, in their worst nightmares, and even when they're awake.

William frowned.

- I have no idea who you are, but you're a quite sinister guy. I was there with him, and I didn't see any bugs of those you describe.

- The manticores are messengers of evil - repeated Kurtis - The men who were with your brother died, right?

The other shook his head.

- There... there was a rockfall. Some died there... and the others, well... fell sick and died.

- How?

Lara and Maddalena were bent over Wilbur's prostrate body, who along with some people from the hotel tried to reanimate him.

- They became blind. Then... became paralyzed and died. Is this important?

- No, except that those are the effects of a manticore's bite. - he said calmly.

William shook his head.

- Look, I don't believe in monsters or anything like that...

- I don't care. You may believe when you see them, but then, woe to you. We only need a pass and some security for access to that temple. Then if you want, you can go away with your brother. But Lara, Giulia and I will stay there.

Lara had looked up and watched them. Wilbur began to blink and mumble something.

- It's very important to me, William. - Lara interjected.

The American spent a few moments looking silently at her trembling brother. Then he looked at the man who gave him such a bad feeling, and finally turned back to Lara.

- Very good. We're going on road to Damascus. And may be what God wants.


	39. Chapter 38: Sybilla Satanica

**Chapter 38: **_**Sybilla Satanica**_

"I was young and ambitious. I longed for above all knowledge and wisdom. And he was very, very old, as old as he had seen pass whole ages and ages as a single moment of our mortal life. He was old and eternal, and I was young and ambitious. I let myself be seduced by him.

I don't know if the woman who bore you talked about how he was. The truth is that he had an ordinary look; he wasn't a marvel of beauty and perfection as you are. He was very tall, blond with blue eyes. He was always dressed in black, very elegantly. He had chosen to be called Joachim Karel, taking a mortal name from the Hebrew language, as was usual among the Nephilim. So your mother chose yours, no doubt.

He... he came to me in a stormy night. I had already become a deacon in my unstoppable ascent, and slept a feverish sleep among the manuscripts that my solicitous protector, the former Cardinal Ratzinger, had let me see. I looked up at a certain moment, startled by the sudden burst of lightning, and then I saw him there, in a corner.

Anyone who hasn't ever seen a Nephilim's smile can't know how it feels. May God forgive me this blasphemy, but it's like seeing an angel smiling... and also a demon. He wasn't as attractive as you, but at that moment, what I say, in all eternity that he lived, there was no creature so terrifying and irresistible in all the earth.

So I saw him as an open door to eternal wisdom, like a sea of promises. I then had a lot of pride and little fear of God, despite my fervent farce to my superiors, and listened to his enticing, cajoling, poisonous words. "

He stopped his story with a gasp, shuddering. The pain of their poor joints had increased. He felt as his bones were being broken under a hammer.

(…)

_- Ercole Monteleone - Karel whispered crookedly on a lupine smile – For being among the hierarchy of your Church, you're also among very inappropriate texts._

_The young deacon, stunned, dropped the parchment and cast a look of panic on the scrolls and codices that were scattered around the table for consultation._

_- Who are you? – he stammered, as seeing him dressed in black he thought he was an inspector of the Holy Father._

_But Karel, in reply, advanced towards the table, took a paper and watched it with disinterest. Then his keen eyes swept across the remaining documents._

_- Necronomicon, Malleus Maleficarum, Black Bible... and... uhm, what is this? Wow! A Lux Veritatis' manuscript about the Nephilim and Lilith..._

_He threw the paper back on the table._

_- Certainly inappropriate for what was supposed to be a holy man. I don't make illusions about what one of your superiors would think about feeding your soul with such readings. However, you hold them in your library. Great irony._

_- Are you an inspector?_

_Karel again showed his crooked smile._

_- I am much worse for you. I guess you've already read enough to interpret this._

_He opened his hand, showing a seared scar, something that in fact the deacon Monteleone identified as the mark of a Nephilim._

_- Fake. – he had the courage to mumble - That mark can be done by anyone. Have you come to mock me?_

_The table vibrated sharply, and moved in a horizontal direction until it crashed against the wall, dragging lamps, vases and chairs, and scattering the manuscripts._

_- The long centuries have given me patience for everything except for the insolence of mortals._

_Ercole went back to the wall, shivering violently._

_- I-I'm just... a... po-poor deacon..._

_- A miserable mortal, which is worse. But you're corrupted by ambition and you learn from forbidden texts. Which is enough to serve my purpose._

_Before Monteleone's stunned eyes, the Nephilim took a sheet of paper and threw it contemptuously on the table._

_- Write, little deacon. - he mocked - Those of your ilk have always liked chattering and writing._

_Ercole took the paper tremblingly and looked for something to write. Even his curiosity was greater than his fear and had no strength to resist._

_- What should I write?_

_- I'll tell you about Samael's fall. It's time for your pompous bunch of preachers to stop telling lies to the mob. If I see you're useful for this, maybe then I'll talk you about Lilith. I bet your texts were not going to say anything such as interesting as this._

_Without another word, the deacon convulsively grasped the pen and proceeded to transcribe the intensity of that immortal voice, revealed to a human being for the first time one of the greatest mysteries of all times._

(…)

The old Cardinal looked up and beheld the unexpected daughter of who was his confidante. The beautiful girl smiled calmly.

- You don't want me to tell you about your father. – he murmured at last - You want me to talk about what he ordered me to write.

- You're wise, old man.

- I should have imagined. You're coming to speak to me and then kill me.

Bathsheba waved a tired hand.

- You're all obsessed with death. I imagine it must be something exciting, because that makes you live too fast. Why would I kill you, if you're going to die tonight anyway?

Ercole gave a bitter laugh.

- If all your predecessors would have thought like you...

- Tell me about the script he made you write. The one you burned.

The woman's green eyes scrutinized him mercilessly. How could she know everything just by looking at him? He shivered. He had forgotten how terrible those creatures were.

- Yes, I burned it, I admit. – he writhed in pain in his chair - I burned it when my sources informed me that he was dead and couldn't return to punish me. Those words were cursed. Its very existence made the angels mourn.

His eyes strayed to the dim light of the lamp, and then looked at the package that she still kept coiled in her lap. As driven by a spring, Bathsheba's arm suddenly uncovered the fabric.

- _Oh, Santa Maria_. - was all that the old man reached to murmur.

There they were. The Periapt and the Shards. His eyes welled with tears. How often had he dreamed of them, while he devoured forbidden manuscripts, trying to imagine them, wanting to touch them... he had them there now, and their bone pain was so intense that he couldn't even lend a hand.

- At last you've them, powerful woman. Finally, then, come the dark days. She will wake up again... and thanks to heaven, I won't live to see it.

- _Everyone_ will see. - hissed Bathsheba - All. The inhabitants of the Earth. Those who dwell in heaven. Those who suffer in the Voragine. The wandering, lost souls, who are homeless. All. The awakening of Lilith won't go unnoticed to the most despicable form of life ever created.

- Then, may God have mercy on us.

And one more time, he went on...

(…)

Marcus had great oratorical gifts, but even his best oratory was unable to resolve the situation before him. After long hours of consultation, all the community mobilized to help with such a look in monastery's archives, and all they had were vague allusions or incomprehensible texts. He was desperate.

- It comes, therefore, the Antichrist, and we have nothing with which to combat Him.

He looked up from the codex he was examining, surprised, and saw Nikos Kavafis standing before him. He was altered.

- _Patér_, you're still too weak. Please, come go back to take a...

- Please, I can't be missed. Not in these circumstances. The Antichrist is coming... and I believed to see Her in a Nephilim who was easy to demolish.

Marcus frowned, while the abbot took seat beside him. He moved slowly, tortured by the pain of his still fresh wounds.

- I wouldn't call her the Antichrist.

- How would you define the awakening of that horrible devil? Call it Satan or Lilith, it's certain the Evil One who threatens to overshadow the earth. For centuries we have helped your order in all that we have against those whom we believed the greatest enemies of mankind, these Nephilim... ours is the story of a failure.

- Not very different from ours. - Marcus smiled - All we have now is a Fighter who doesn't want to fight and an unborn child who is in the spotlight of all the dark forces. Not a very good picture.

Nikos nodded.

- I wish I had the great faith that my predecessor had. He would have known what to do. – he shook his head as if to ward off such thoughts, and whispered - What you consult therefore, Healer?

Marcus grinned and showed the text to the abbot. He read:

_Innocence, Wisdom, Occultism, Impurity, Angelic Essence, hanging from the fingers of a Warrior and an Amazonian._

- God. - murmured the abbot, surprised. - At last you've found something!

- You think so? I'm not so sure. Read on.

_An Amazonian and a Warrior must sacrifice two. For their cause have to shed their blood, but not stain their hands with blood._

- If you want my opinion - snorted Marcus - this is an incomprehensible hodgepodge.

Nikos smiled.

- Well, I'm a priest, and you're a Healer. If we don't interpret this, we won't have more clues. Let me read on.

_The shed blood cries from the ground. Innocent blood, wise blood, impure blood, occult blood, angelic blood can splash the land._

- Don't see where you see the misunderstanding. - sputtered Nikos - I see it plain!

- _Yes, right?_ - Marcus had trouble containing the sarcasm - My friend, that's the problem. It's so clear that it's not saying _anything_. It merely repeats the words of the damned prophecy!

- Let me read, Marcus - he said, taking the codex- I might find something.

_See with clear eyes what the truth is. Nothing is as clear as shown by our mortal eyes. Innocence is not innocence; impurity is not the absence of purity. Wisdom has many faces, and what is hidden from the eyes is clearly shown to the world. The angel can be demon._

Nikos laughed.

- It's pretty ... ironic. It's and it's not. It can be anyone, but not what it seems. It seems that this text doesn't get us anywhere...

Marcus growled.

- ... but...

- But what?

- Well, obviously we shouldn't become complacent. Did you have some assumptions about who could be elected?

- Professor Ivanoff proposed that he, Selma and I could be the Wise. According to him, the Angel could be Lady Bathsheba, while he saw the Impure in Ms. Manfredi...

Nikos laughed again.

- That Ivanoff is quite sharp, but... he seems to stick in the dark. Bathsheba might certainly be a demon, who seems as an angel, but the case of the Impure and the Wise is too obvious... and this text warns us we shouldn't overlook anything.

- Kurtis didn't seem satisfied with that proposal too. The truth is that evil creatures don't a prostitute from a... "common" mortal, I would say. There couldn't more impurity in one than another. They are dirty mortals, that's all.

The abbot looked through a little more of the codex. In some places the ink was smeared and half-erased; some pages were rotten and had lost its caps long ago.

- Who wrote this manuscript? - Marcus asked - Do you know? I found it in one of the basement's near the crypt.

- What title is?

- _O Onirikón Daimonion_. The Devil's Dream.

Nikos stood for a moment, and then grinned.

- What... what paradoxical. So it is to where we are the events leading us...

- Why? I never heard of this book.

- Neither you nor anyone outside the monastery. And much less the younger novices. This book is banned. Abbot Stefannos commanded to keep and banned access to it at XIV century.

- Why didn't he burn it? But... are you saying that _really_ this was written in the fourteenth century?

The abbot laughed.

- Not at all. It was written long before. This book was already old when he ordered to save it. Maybe he was afraid of burning it.

Marcus leaned back in his chair. He trembled slightly.

- If this is not a fake...

- I assure you, brother.

- ...then we have in our hands a book that speaks about the Order, about the prophecies of a Warrior and an Amazonian... written several centuries before the Order was born... before Loanna Von Skopf was born! In the name of all which is sacred, who wrote this?

Nikos was smiling.

- In theory it's forbidden to talk about this, but these are difficult times... and there's always some information which is filtered. My predecessor Minos talked to me about this book, in his deathbed. How curious...

- Tell me about it! - ordered, rather than suggested, the Healer.

(…)

_Eighty years of life had trod the earth, and finally it was time to leave. Minos Axiotis lay on his deathbed. His limp hand could barely hold the rosary. His eyes were fixed on his beloved icon of the Theotokos, which had presided over his office for so long, which he had sent to bring in front of his bed._

_At his feet, holding her hand, Nikos Kavafis, who had been elected successor, stood with his head bowed. The impending loss of one who had been a guide and inspiration for the whole community had fallen like a wet blanket over them, although it was clear that he was too old and sick._

_- Nikos..._

_The monk opened his eyes. Minos had his face turned towards him, but it was obvious that he no longer saw anything. The dim eyes didn't point in any direction._

_- Nikos, I must tell you something. It's about... the forbidden book. Ó Onirikón Daimonión._

_He frowned. No doubt they were the ravings of a dying man._

_- Rest, Patér. The Lord awaits you._

_- No! - the cry came out with surprising energy from his bloodless lips - I should have talked about it much, much earlier. Listen, I beg you. I'm dying..._

_Nikos bowed his head in respect._

_- This book... will be your guide when Evil returns._

_- What are you talking, holy father? Evil is dead. We saw him die, and end the pain._

_Minos strenuously denied his head._

_- Evil always returns. Always returns, and becomes stronger. That was just a battle. You must... help them..._

_- Who, father?_

_- Kurtis. Lara. They remain at risk. The forbidden codex..._

_A fit of coughing prevented him from continuing. Nikos took a jug of water and poured a glass table, which came to the lips of the dying._

_- Son, - muttered when he had drunk - this book was written in the seventh century AD. It spokes of things that didn't exist at that time, such as the Order of the Lux Veritatis, or the Amazonian. It was written by one person... a woman..._

_Another fit of coughing. Again gave him a drink. Despite knowing that he was wicked, Nikos could feel the sting of curiosity tormenting him in the inside._

_- That woman... was a prophetess who lived in the mountains of Syria. A woman who calls herself in the manuscript as Sybilla Satanica._

_- A Devil's priestess?_

_Minos agreed._

_- How can we have such horror in our library? - Nikos gasped._

_- Because it's a horror that could save many at one time. Listen... this woman prophesied the awakening of an ancient evil... an evil that will come to punish, to avenge, and to destroy. Eventually, you'll help with this manuscript everyone which asks from you._

_- But, father..._

_- Swear it, son._

_- We shouldn't swear!_

_The old abbot smiled bitterly._

_- There are many things we shouldn't do and we'll do. Swear, son..._

_The breathing became slower, more mechanical. Little by little, his pupils dilated and he his lips remained half open._

_Nikos placed his hand on his chest and bowed his head._

_- Receive him, angels of the Lord. Save him, Mistress of Heaven._

(…)

Nikos shuddered when finished talking. He looked at his hands, horrified, as his eyes filled with tears.

- Nikos! - exclaimed Marcus - Are you okay?

- Oh, God! – he sobbed - _I remember now!_ I had a demon inside of me...

- That's already over. You're healed and purified.

Nikos gave a cry of grief. Then he buried his face in his hands.

- How could I forget! I had it in me and he whispered that prophecy continuously! How could I forget that book, how could I ignore Minos' last breath!

- Courage, Nikos. We're still on time. We can help. It seems that this codex itself is valuable, so we'll turn to study it and tell to Lara and Kurtis about the news we get.

He pressed the monk's hand, still dazed. Both then returned to reading.

(…)

They had half an hour of drive by jeep across the arid landscape, after having left behind Damascus. There were two vehicles, one driven by the twins, and in another one were Lara, Kurtis and Maddalena. Despite the explorer's protests, it was Kurtis who was driving.

- If I agree with all you want - he muttered, glancing at his co-pilot – maybe you'll end up making bungee jumping on your ninth month, Lara. Stop acting like a maniac.

She looked at him poisoned and then concentrated on examining the map.

- I remember you had a motorcycle. – the redhead gently whispered from the back seat.

- It must be at your friend Monteleone's hands. - Kurtis said. - I hope it will serve him as a poison.

Lara smiled. Kurtis knew, but not Maddalena, that the _capo_ was dead.

- Now, when you get a kind of intersection, turn left. - said the explorer, and brushed a strand of her sweaty forehead.

- Are you sure we need those two?

- It's a little late to send them back after they did come from the United States. - Lara laughed - Yes, I need them. They know the excavation. I have understood that's enormous. Could do it myself, but that would take a long time, and time is what we have not.

Maddalena shrugged. She couldn't understand anything. What were they searching? What was it about to happen?

_You know, beautiful Giulia. You know that._

She shuddered with fear and looked around, terrified.

_I never leave you, neither sun nor shade_, whispered the Voice, _never forget it_.

(…)

- Ah! - Wilbur sighed - My beautiful! They haven't destroyed it. – he turned towards the other - Welcome to the temple of Astarte.

It was huge, indeed. A huge structure in ruins, with some walls engraved and some other with traces of pigments. Lara watched at them, delighted, but ordered herself to go to the point.

- We need to get started. Any suspect place?

- Make him to lead us where he saw the manticores. - said Kurtis.

When the three had disappeared among the ruins, William dropped himself at the foot of a column and lit a cigarette. Then he looked at Maddalena, who had sat in the shade absently.

- I spent the best years of my life in this temple. – he murmured, looking with a smile the beautiful animal engravings - When we found it, it was just two misplaced stones. And look now how much we unearthed. – he sighed - I'm surprised those suckers respected so much. I'm about to change my opinion about them.

She hugged her knees, not looking at him. He however didn't take his eyes off her.

- I don't understand what happens here. I'm increasingly confused. My brother raves like a madman, like he was when we left this site, and I find Lara totally changed. – he threw the cigar - What do you know about this? Who you are and who is he? He's her lover, right?

The redhead run her view across the structure, feeling uncomfortable.

- It's not my business.

- No? What do you do with them? Perhaps _you too_ are his lover?

There was no response.

- I hate that guy. I don't like him. I think we can't trust him. Do you believe all that bullshit about Lilith and the descent into Hell?

Silence.

- Is it a trap, right?

(…)

- This is a _bothros_. Archaeologists call _bothroi_ to...

- ... to offering's pits in all the temples .- Lara smiled sarcastically.- Are you going to teach me archeology at this point, Wilbur?

The ruddy American, squatting in front of the pit, smiled like a child whose mother scolds.

- Let me enjoy, Lara. In addition, your friend can learn something.

Kurtis bowed to the empty darkness and sniffed.

- How much depth there's?

- About six meters to the ground. But I brought a lad...

Before he could finish the sentence, Kurtis had thrown himself down the hole. Wilbur screamed.

- What are you doing, man! You'll break your legs!

A light flickered down, and he saw Kurtis standing among rubble remains, shining his flashlight around. The archaeologist was stunned.

- Not possible! You should now have titanium bones to prevent a fracture! There's a fall of six meters, again!

- Six meters is nothing to Kurtis. - Lara smiled, somewhat envious of that Don which allowed him to slow down the rate of fall. - But unfold that ladder, Wilbur, if you don't want _us_ to break our legs.

Shaking his head, the archaeologist adjusted, helped by Lara, the rope ladder, and they descended. At the bottom and step on the pottery, the woman bent down and lifted a winged statuette with unmistakable symbols.

- Lilith – she announced triumphantly – Do you still think that this temple was dedicated to Astarte?

- Don't start with that, Lara.

Kurtis was crouched next to a hole in the bottom of the borehole wall, his flashlight scanning their surroundings.

- Here's a tunnel. Wide enough for a person to crawl... and for a manticore to freely move.

Wilbur began to tremble, but made an effort to hold back.

- Those things went out there. There were many... but... _what are you doing?_

Kurtis was crawling down the hole. Lara went with him.

- Are you sure? – she said - If they come, how can you defend yourself in a space so narrow?

- They aren't here. - gasped the man – I don't perceive them around here.

The American shook his head, not knowing whether to give credit.

- I'm going with you. - Lara was crawling after him.

- Lara...

- Don't start! If there are no manticores, there's no danger. And no one has died because of crawling a while!

With a grunt, Kurtis went forward.

- Are you coming with us, Wilbur?

- I... I think ... I'll wait here.

(…)

Twenty yards ahead, they saw the exit. Luckily the ground was near. Kurtis slipped out of the hole and planted his feet on the ground. Then he helped Lara to go out.

- Incredible. – she announced, satisfied - Who could say?

They were in a large underground cave which seemed to be ventilated with drafty upper galleries coming from the surface. Before them was a kind of strange stone structure, like an egg, with a central staircase carved in stone. There were some torches.

- Someone lives there. - Kurtis said.

- What kind of person can live buried here? - Lara muttered, already heading for the stairs. Kurtis took her arm.

- Have you thought that could be dangerous?

Lara lifted her wide shirt and showed the gun she had tucked into her belt.

- I'm coming armed. Come on.

They ascended through the dark rock towards the stone egg. A tattered curtain covered the entrance, behind which they saw a reddish glow.

- Do you think we should knock on the door? - Lara mocked – It's the requirement regarding education for decent places.

- This is not a decent place. - Kurtis smiled, and pulled the curtain on a stretch.

At first, a whiff of perfumed smoke prevented them from seeing anything. They took a few steps inside, then Lara gasped.

They were in a circular room, which would seem to be larger if it weren't packed with stuff: jars, bottles, books, furniture, curtains, and thousands of boxes, shelves filled with objects and bundles wrapped in threadbare cloth. Opposite of them, and after a huge brazier in which were burning some kind of spices and lit the room with a ghostly red light, there was a large wooden throne, covered with threadbare pillows. And sitting in it, there was a girl.

If she could be called girl; she seemed to be so judging by her small size, and because in her body, naked and smeared with red ocher, there was no evidence of maturity yet. But her appearance was horrible. Along the lines of paint that covered her little body, there were several scarifications made by knife. Her whole body was marked. The hair was so dirty and matted that it was impossible to determine its color, but several tiny bones and skulls (mouse skulls?) hung from it as a decoration. Lara estimated she was eight or nine years old.

She had been rigid in a seat that was five times bigger than her, but soon opened her eyes slightly. At first, Lara was horrified seeing the milky white color they had, but then she found, ashamed, that there was nothing monstrous in those eyes. Simply, she was blind.

- Sorry we bothered you. - said Lara. She suddenly felt stupid, but the fact was she didn't know how to react before such appearance. - We...

She didn't continue, because then the girl hissed like a snake. Her pale lips, painted with a blackish substance, parted, showing her sharp yellow teeth.

Kurtis took a step and gently pushed Lara away, covering her to protect her from the child.

- Kurtis – she murmured – She's scary, but she's only a girl, she can't...

- The man is wiser than you, woman.

She had spoken. She looked at her, stunned, as the hoarse voice that came out of her horrible mouth didn't seem the one of a child, but of a decrepit old woman.

- Do you speak my language? - Lara asked, still surrounded by Kurtis' arm.

- I speak all the tongues of mortals and immortals. The Ancients compensated me with this gift.

The whitish mass that was her eyes moved slowly, turning basins.

- But if you're just a girl. Who let you here? Where are your parents?

The tiny chest swelled and the creature gave a dry laugh.

- I have no parents. Perhaps I had ones a long time ago, but they died while I've been spending whole ages and ages on the Earth. I was also a child long ago, but I left that behind. Now I'm very old and very wise.

- I don't understand what you say.

- It's normal. But if you want answers, open that huge closet that is at your right.

Lara turned to the cabinet, but Kurtis grabbed her.

- Are you crazy? – he hissed in her ear - You have no idea about what's there!

- Fear not, Son of Light. - hissed the girl - I won't be the one to hurt the Amazonian.

The explorer released from his arms and went to the closet. It was as if she weren't herself. Kurtis glared at her, and yes, she was being _stupidly_ reckless, but curiosity devoured her in the inside, and there was something that drove her to do what that monster dictated.

She yanked the rickety closet doors, which creaked loudly, and then she stepped back and let out a cry of horror.

There was a pile of heads piled up in various shelves. They were stuffed heads, old heads, with sewn mouth and eyes, matted gray hair crowning some of them, others with a dry bald... there were ten, twenty, thirty ...

- There are thousands of them. - said the girl - Since I was born until now, these are my previous avatars. I keep them in thousands of cabinets scattered in my domains. Do you understand now, Amazonian? I was born in the seventh century of your era. Since then, I've born, I've died and I've been reborn, and when my body was dying, I occupied another one and kept my former bodies to venerate them. Unfortunately they rotted over the centuries and I only can keep the heads.

Lara felt a nausea invading her. The heads released a strong odor. She staggered, and Kurtis held her.

- What is this atrocity?

- It's no atrocity. It's the gift of reincarnation. Only I enjoy this, among all mortals. - the girl was repositioned on the throne - I hope your insane curiosity is satisfied now, Amazonian.

The nausea got worse. She refrained from throwing up. She closed the closet at once. The smell of corpses, burning spices... the smell of blood... of filth... she thought, ironically, if she vomited on the carpeted floor, she wouldn't mess that disgusting hall more than it already was.

- Who are you? – she sputtered.

The blind eyes briefly closed, hiding the white jelly in her sooty face.

- I'm Sybilla Satanica. – she whispered, discovering again her sharp teeth - And you, intruders, _what have you been doing in my domains?_


	40. Chapter 39: Old Wounds

**Chapter 39: Old wounds**

- There it is, Doctor.

Giselle looked down the valley and watched the green vastness from which rose the rocky cliffs crowned by monasteries. In another time, perhaps, her heart had been touched by such beauty, as any human being moved by Meteora's ancient dignity, but she had spent too much time between specimens and flasks, cutting, sewing, opening bodies, managing and operating. Too many miles of blank corridors and operating rooms had passed before her eyes. If ever there was any feeling in her soul that could be moved by this vision, it had disappeared.

Now she only saw an adverse terrain where vainly sought refuge a bunch of bigots who had helped to kill Karel. Her mind, dull with hate, was barely aware of what she had left behind in Romania, a huge number of police officers looking for her, which would eventually extend beyond borders. Such a thing was not important to her.

Beside the great coach, Schäffer threw a critical eye on her. He had sworn to serve her above all, but the truth was he beginning to get tired of her incombustible hatred. She was deranged. Well, if he had to make a new bloodbath, it would be. He had lost his qualms about it long ago. But once they finished with that, Giselle would have to stick to reason. He will take care of it.

- And your men?

- They will act on my signal. But it's early to do anything. There are still tourists in the valley.

- In Ayios Stefanos no tourist ever goes. - the blonde murmured - And that's where we go. I don't care about the other monasteries.

Calmly, she alighted from the car and took a few steps forward, without bothering to close the door. Her high heels were uncomfortably sinking in the grass. The truth is she was completely sore because of that endless journey, and also, because of what was happening every night in her bed. Something she neither wanted especially, nor did she have heart to refuse. It didn't matter. When all was over, she'd laugh. She would laugh as ever.

- They buried him there. - she muttered, even Schäffer barely saw her red lipstick lips moving - At the foot of the rock. They got him into a hole and covered him with earth...

- Giselle...

- Do you remember how we wheedled that from him?

She smiled and hugged her waist as if it was a pleasant and endearing memory. Schäffer shook his head. Was she deranged?

(…)

_Without further preamble, Schäffer grabbed his neck and giving him a hard tug, pulled him out of the Throne and crashed him to the ground. Giselle almost trembled with pleasure when she heard the awful crack made by Kurtis' head upon impacting with the ground, but moments later, she frowned._

_- Don't you have him killed, right?_

_- I think not. This one is really tough._

_As corroborating his words, Kurtis began to move. He sat up slowly, his mouth and nose bleeding. She would have loved to see all his teeth broken, but they remained intact. They had been protected by the lips, which were already chapped._

_Well, the better. She might have his teeth torn with pliers. Why not?_

_- If you call that to the doctor again - threatened Schäffer - I give you another session of sparks. And now answer her question._

_The Lux Veritatis licked his lips, trying to get all the blood possible, and then spat at Schäffer's feet. Giselle felt angry. Was he mad? Didn't he know he could cut him into pieces, if she felt like it?_

_- You're a couple of idiots. - Kurtis gasped hoarsely - Do you think I care about telling such stupid thing? We buried the monster at the foot of the monastery, in the valley, in an unmarked grave. Next to him was buried Gunderson – he looked away, towards Giselle - Although I should say they buried him. I was about to let him hanging from a pole, where the crows could tore him into pieces._

_Schäffer responded by giving him a kick on the stomach. It wasn't he particularly enjoyed doing that, but it was his job. In any case, he was following orders. If she asked him to take a carpenter's saw and leave him with no legs, he wouldn't blink in doing so. For that he was there, and for that he took Gunderson's place._

_- We'll tore you alive into pieces, you can be sure of this. - said Giselle, who despite her mocking tone was very tense – He, however, couldn't suffer more._

_Kurtis's mouth was deformed in a bloody face._

_- That being has ever suffered in all his damn life. He never had the slightest idea about what suffering is._

_- But you do, right? We'll make you the most knowledgeable person in this world about suffering. Too bad then you're not going to live to tell the tale._

_She turned and left abruptly. Schäffer had the absolute certainty that she had gone to mourn into a corner, as usual. That attitude made him felt furious! Here was her most hated enemy, defeated, beaten, tortured and broken, and she wasn't relieved. Was not it time to change things? Nobody could return his fucking Karel to her. Even if they quartered alive that unfortunate -since that's what he was in the eyes of the mercenary, a poor wretch- she wouldn't be happy._

_- Lift him. - he ordered the other men who, firm in their places, had seen the torture without blinking - For today he has had enough._

_But Kurtis didn't let them to touch him. He tried to rise and remained standing barely. When they took him back to jail, Schäffer whispered:_

_- I think you're mad._

_- And it's you who says that to me? - Kurtis replied without looking at him._

_- I saw how you defended yourself in Turkey. You can either get out of here, not having to stand this anymore, but instead you let yourself being torture and killed. I don't know if you're mad or just stupid, because that kind of courage won't be useful to you._

_Kurtis then looked at him and grinned, showing his reddened teeth._

_- Are you putting on my part?_

_Schäffer threw back his head._

_- On your part? If she asks me to castrate you like a mule, I'll just sleep well tonight. But if this whole martyr-to-the-cause's role responds to a plan of yours, get ready, because I'll destroy you..._

(…)

- Schäffer! Can you tell me what are you doing?

Giselle looked at him accusingly. The mercenary realized that he had been absorbed in his memories.

- Excuse me, Doctor. I was thinking.

She bared her teeth in a grin. She was damn seductive; even though she didn't know nor do she pretended such thing.

- Thinking is not something that goes well with you, Adolf. You'd better be aware of what I say.

He looked over the valley and frowned.

- Come on. Tonight we will have fun a great time.

_How funny_, Schäffer mocked to himself.

(…)

_Woe to you, Innocent soul_

_From your marked body _

_The deepest pain_

_Will devastate your essence_

_And to the fire of your birth_

_The one which shaped your beauty_

_You'll return to that fire..._

Marcus looked up those verses written by a trembling hand. He looked at Nikos, who was somewhat enthralled.

- I know this isn't appropriate for a man of my religion – he stipulated - but I had never read anything so beautiful.

- It's beautiful, in fact. - the old man leaned back – It's like those poems I recited to Bathsheba...

The monk blinked.

- Did you recite poems to that monster?

The Healer frowned.

- Bathsheba is not like her father. She's not a monster.

- Please, brother! That... that devil tempted me and then punished me. How can you say that, when you've seen all your people dying at the hands of creatures of her ilk?

Marcus shook his head.

- We shouldn't forget that she was born of a probe, a hybridization experiment. She's not like the others.

- Well, from what I've seen, she behaves like the others. She's cold, merciless, and she didn't care the less to step on dead bodies to achieve her goals. She's so alien to human suffering as were her predecessors.

- However, she still hasn't soiled her hands with blood. And I saw her covering Kurtis' tortured body with her cloak when we were prisoners on the Island.

The monk shook his head stubbornly.

- And that makes her a human being?

- I can't imagine Karel covering anyone with his cloak. What I mean, brother, is that she hasn't yet been... let's say, marked, stained, by the cruelty that characterizes her species. She has a lot of mortal blood in her veins, though apparently possessing all the qualities of a Nephilim.

- And so do you recited poems to her?

- I'm a big fan of literature. I tried to criticize her indifference to what was the suffering of others. – he sighed - Oh, nevermind. You can't understand.

- Of course not!

But it was obvious. If Bathsheba wasn't like the others, it could be a glimmer of hope. In some sense, she was still pure, still innoce...

- What if she's the Innocent? – he exclaimed suddenly, startling the monk. He took and read the passage again.

_Woe to you, Innocent soul_

_From your marked body _

_The deepest pain_

_Will devastate your essence_

_And to the fire of your birth_

_The one which shaped your beauty_

_You'll return to that fire..._

- Bathsheba has her body... marked? - Nikos asked – Was she born from the fire?

- Don't interpret it literally. - Marcus said – We're talking about a prophetess. And the prophets have never spoken out, as is well known.

- Oh, good. Leave it. Continue with the other.

Marcus frowned. He didn't like the following passages at all.

_Tormented Warrior_

_Of cursed lineage_

_Born to the suffering_

_You will choose your bitterest price_

_And drain the cup of sorrow_

_Until there is nothing left to give..._

- I hope nothing horrible will be waiting for Kurtis. He has already suffered enough, poor man. - Marcus heard the monk bemoaning.

- A Lux Veritatis never suffers enough. – he muttered quietly. – He just rest in his grave. Always has been like this.

- It's time to end it.

Marcus nodded absently. End with that? May the Light help them! They would need all the help possible. And they were so alone...

_Shining Amazonian_

_With hardened heart_

_In your heart and your belly_

_You bring hope_

_Also you carry the curse_

_Which will devour the darkness..._

(…)

- Radha! - cried Marie – Don't go too far!

The girl, who looked thoughtfully at her reflection in a pool (was she that girl staring back at her?) looked up and meekly went along with the woman.

Marie took several days distraught. When she had tried to take care of herself there was no problem. In any case, if she was wrong, the blame would be hers, and the only affected, her. But being responsible for a child, who, in her opinion, should have already suffered enough with what she had in her country, and also could expect the same horrors which had happened to others, was too much for her in some way. She must now go back to the times when she had a child depending on her, a boy whom fought both the world's oldest orders, one to dominate him, the other to kill him.

And that was too backward for her.

She looked at the phone. Should she do it? Should she drop all the bad news to Lara and Kurtis? Hadn't they had enough burdens on their shoulders?

She bit her lip.

Finally, she reached out and picked up the receiver. But instead of dialing the number that Lara always carried with her, she scored Marcus' one, who had been gifted with another phone by a solicitous Lara to avoid communication problems.

(…)

- Those are bad news, Marie. - Marcus lamented, holding the receiver away from the table for consultation, where Nikos was flipping through the codex.

- I fear for my life and Radha's one, but I can take care of it - pursued the woman – I also fear for Zip, but he refuses to leave the hospital. And you, Marcus, you may be in danger too.

Marcus felt a cold indifference to that. It seemed there was nothing left to lose for him, that there was no serious danger that he couldn't assume. At the end of the day, what more else could they do to him?

- Has she been found?

- She seems to have abandoned, at least, the city of Brasov. Maybe she's gone even from Romania. But I'm not sure about anything.

- That woman is completely deranged. She'll do whatever ruthlessly and without considering the consequences. You must leave and take Radha with you.

Marie couldn't suppress a grimace of disgust. He kept giving orders as if he was still a wise of the Order's Council. Some things never changed.

- I'll tale care of Radha, no problem with that. But I have fear for Lara and Kurtis.

- You shouldn't. Both of them are perfectly able to handle this, if they stay together. I've never seen two people working better together.

- Marcus... if that madwoman breaks with her soldiers...

- I know. I'll put them on notice. Don't worry.

And without more, he hung up. Marie watched a few moments the phone, stunned, and hung it in turn. Then she turned and looked for a moment, without seeing her, the tall, slender young girl before her.

Why had she the feeling that they had abandoned her again?

_Stop feeling sorry for yourself, you old fool. By now you should know that this is how it has always been: save your own ass, and may the others save themselves if they can._

- Let's go, Radha. Here we're done.

- Where? - said the girl, confused.

Did she have the right to put her in such a risk? Who but Lara was responsible for that child? Or should she return to England... where from she was taken...?

- We'll go to Syria.

(…)

The Cardinal Monteleone looked, spellbound, at the flames dancing in the fireplace. They had spent almost an hour there and he had not yet begun, but in defense of Bathsheba must be said she was well endowed with the astounding patience that characterized the Nephilim, despite her mixed blood.

- At the beginning of time, a battle was fought in God's kingdom. It was because of the creation of the first wife who was, unlike what has been taught to all Christians, not Eve but Lilith. In fact, if the evil had to be loose on a creature, it had to be on her. I don't know how should be that woman when she was mortal, but she had had to be the most beautiful creature of God, to be able to corrupt the purest of His angels.

He huddled in his chair, picking up his purple cassock.

- Samael was by far the best of all Lord's angels. He hadn't Michael's warlike and loyal personality, or Gabriel's enthusiasm for the Word, nor even looked like the other angels. From the moment he saw the first human being, the one who was called Adam, he was charmed by the fragile but also divine nature of mortals. And seeing who was to be his wife ended up with deranging him. But I must not linger on this, you'd probably already know. But that's how Karel told me.

He looked briefly towards the woman who sat quietly in front of him.

- Yes... she must have been a beauty like you.

He sighed.

- In any case, we call Nephilim to Lilith and Samael's children, who fell to Earth to blend in with mortals. Hybrids of angels and demons they were called... that's right. Both He and She are a couple that shares power equally. Some satanic traditions made them brothers, but we shouldn't be mistaken: Brothers in the sense of equals, since Lilith had become an angel. A fallen angel as doomed as Her husband, but an angel after all. This goes against the precepts of my Church, but really an angel doesn't need to have wings or not, live in heaven or not. The angel is such thing because of being born as an angel, or having reached an angel's status, and once you get being an angel, angelic nature can't be removed. We say the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, but He shouldn't been able to take away what was given to His servants, nor what Samael gave to Lilith, so that in the end He had to banish them to the Darkness.

It was amazing how Karel's words still haunted so vividly in his memory that he even seemed to be there, forcing him to write what he remembered so well.

- Lilith's malice is immense. Samael knows how not to get involved in the affairs of mortals, and at the same time, being with them, but She had to be reduced, or Her overwhelming fury would have devoured the Earth. That's why when the Nephilim achieved enough power to consider imposing a new rule over mortals... they decided to betray their Mother and imprisoning her.

For the first time he saw signs of activity in Bathsheba. Her eyelashes quivered and she rose, rigid in her seat.

- Imprisoning her? It must have been my father's work, who in his arrogance cheated you. No one can imprison Lilith, not even the strongest of the Nephilim!

- It was Karel. One of the oldest children, if not the first. It was him who locked Her up.

- That's absurd.

- He used Her own Scepter against Her.

Bathsheba shook her head, waving her hair's black curls. Would she have an idea about how lovely she was when angry?

- You'll understand, Blessed Daughter (since, that's not like this how you were called among yours?) when you let me speak a little more. The Scepter, that Scepter you hold in your lap as indulgently as if holding a child's toy, is an object of great power. Lilith focused on it all Her anger and Her energy. She created an instrument that only She could control, but... in doing so, She also created the only object _that could control Her_.

Her coralline lips twisted into a sarcastic grimace, but said nothing.

- She used the Scepter to frighten the Order which had risen to fight them. But Karel discovered something... in fact, something that broke all the schemes and led him to seriously consider to betray not only The One Who Has Given Him Life, but his strongest ally in his struggle for dominance over mortals and extermination of his enemies. And when She, angry and disappointed, delivered the Shards to the Lux Veritatis... Karel had no more doubt about what to do. With his overwhelming personality, which made him the strongest among his brothers, he managed to win enough support for the rebellion. He used the Scepter against its own Maker and when hitting Her with it, he defeated Her, leaving Her lost in the semi-conscious slumber of the damned from that century.

He sighed and rubbed his bloated face.

- Samael didn't intervene. Karel was of the opinion that, for The First Fallen One, there were things to be left in the hands of mortals. Although He didn't quite approve the plans of the Nephilim and His Wife, He was convinced that everything would run its course. The apparition of the Lux Veritatis was merely a proof of the existence of another power that was antagonistic and would balance the scales. But don't think Samael was fair and beneficial. The Shadows War has created more victims and the blood has been spilled in a way that not because having been discreet is less horrible. I think He didn't care they massacred each other as their energies were balanced and His lovely Wife lay sleeping next to Him. Just because he doesn't intervene, He's not better than those wicked He spawned and the whore who is His...

- _Cardinale_ - Bathsheba mocked, with her cold eyes - if I were you I wouldn't give my opinion. Stick to what he told you, and leave your impressions for your cult. What was that my father discovered that prompted him to commit such treachery?

The Cardinal smiled a sad smile.

- I don't think you're ready to hear such thing. Although for practical purposes this doesn't change anything, and for us mortals it doesn't mean so much, I'm sure if anyone else, Nephilim or Lux Veritatis, had known this, the shock that would have generated would have created terrible consequences for them. Karel, of course, kept this to himself and invented other reasons... until he told it to me.

- I must know.

Monteleone smiled again. For the first time he seemed revived, and rising from the seat, he came limping to the girl. She stood up, angry, because she could barely stand such closer contact, but the old man didn't flinch, and marveling at the fragrance given off by that white skin, he applied his lips to her ear and whispered a few words.

She moved aside so violently that her hair hit the cardinal's face.

- Liar!

- Why should I? What do I have to lose, Blessed Daughter?

- That wouldn't make any sense! The Great Goddess never... would never have acted like that... that's absurd!

- It's true. And when Karel discovered that, he felt such panic (or whatever the _Nephilia_ feel when they fear something) that he decided to silence the only voice which could tell that awful secret. Lilith's one!

Bathsheba sprang back as if the Cardinal's clothes burned her, and looked at him angrily.

- That's impossible. My father lied to you; he lied for his own intentions...!

- Come on, come on. What intentions could have him with me, with a useless deacon?

- It's absurd. Impossible. And even when there was a flash of truth... what does it matter...?

- You will know. You've shocked. But it's true. You should think about it. Maybe if we had known it before, how much horror, how much death... we would have avoided.

He watched amazed how she bent in two, as if a burning pain would be drilling her bowels. How fragile she seemed now that her most basic concepts had been shaken!

- Daughter ... listen...

- Silence.

- ...now that you know the truth, you must use it. Don't allow your father's mistake, being silenced, destroy all hope. You shall not commit the same mistake.

She recoiled. She pressed against her the wrapped burden.

- Listen, Bathsheba. No matter what they say you should be. No matter whom your father was, or for what your mother gave birth to you. You shouldn't obey the dictates of the priestess who raised you, or that infernal goddess whom you think you serve.

- Shut up now!

- You are pure. You are immaculate. Although they have tried to corrupt you, there's still time to stop what is coming. You must stop them at all! Now you know the truth. A disaster is coming, you see it coming. Above all, Lilith must not be awakened.

- You'll die if not shut up!

- What your ancestors, cruel monsters without a drop of mortal blood in the veins, what your father couldn't do, you must do. Stop this. Not one more death, Bathsheba. Not one more demon to come into the Earth. You're still innocent; you're still untouched by darkness... Bathsheba...

Suddenly, he gasped. He gasped trying to talk. The emerald eyes pierced him, furious. He could not breathe, he could not move. He bent on his knees. His face struck the floor carpet.

- Bathsheba...

She pursed her lips, furious. The Cardinal made titanic efforts to talk.

- Don't allow yourself to be corrupted... in your hand is salvation... redeem your race... forgive your enemies... Bathsheba... Bathsheba... if you don't do ... it won't be done by anyone else...

The words were cut short. Suddenly he stopped breathing. His body suffered a couple of crackles, and then a gush of blood flowed from his mouth.

He had died.

She clenched her eyes tightly. Her heart was throbbing and her aching hands wet because of holding so hard the bundle.

- I'm not going to be a mortals' instrument. - she gasped, gritting her teeth.

She turned violently and went towards the door. Then she paused, recalling with a grimace of disgust, she didn't need to open doors. She looked around and, before vanishing into the air, she came to the Virgin's statue which innocently looked at her from a corner of the room, and turned it furiously with her hand, shattering it on the floor.


	41. Chapter 40: Golem

**Chapter 40: Golem**

Young Pancratios advanced towards the table and put in it a cup of tea with which the monks prepared to pass a sleepless night. He noted, sideways, the Healer absorbed in the study of the old codex. He couldn't help saying with a sneer:

- Devil's writings. Your Order must have fallen too low to have to resort to the ravings of a witch.

Marcus looked up and down to the novice.

- I think, Pancratios, you shouldn't dump your bitterness on either. That's also falling too low for someone who claims to be a Christian, right?

The boy turned away, offended, and left. Marcus took the cup and sipped the decoction of herbs. If not for it, he would have already spent hours sleeping and drooling over the codex. Even the fascinating text was too much for his old age and weakness.

- _Bitter is the sacrifice of a mother who must choose between her children_ – he read, fingering the scroll – _dooming one, betraying the other, saving another one._

- Sounds very strange.

Nikos was back there. There was no way to force him to rest. And he was still skinny and weak, as if his body was unable to recover the lost energy. Marcus was genuinely concerned about him, but he had decided not to insist on it.

- Has he been bothering you? – the abbot said, gesturing towards the door - Our Pancratios can become somewhat tedious at times.

- You must have the patience of a saint with him.

The abbot gave a chuckle.

- A saint's one, no. A martyr's one! But tell me again what you found.

- Not much. Listen to what it says about the Angel:

_Flashpointed avenging sword_

_You're wielding, with trembling hand,_

_You who never knew the touch of a kiss,_

_Whose heart beats crazy_

_Locked between the spines of your distress,_

_Splashing blood around you._

_Your offspring have to kill you,_

_Because you were born for love_

_But you can only breed hatred._

He let out a sigh and leaned back closing his eyes. Nikos was watching him, funny.

- This Sybilla was a really fascinating woman. - said the Healer.

- Brother, this is not a poetry contest. Lives are at stake.

Marcus blinked.

- I know. But it would be inhuman not to let myself captivated by this. Don't forget that the classical Sibyl was a prophetess inspired by divinity.

- By Satan, in this case. - sputtered the abbot.

- In any case, it's a supernatural being who speaks through her mouth. I... I think if we don't strip these lines of prophecy, nothing or no one will. But my findings have been more specific with the figure of the Wise.

He cleared his throat and leaned back on the codex.

_You who have come to interpret_

_What my mouth said centuries ago_

_You, who are the last and you're alone_

_Who you count the fast seconds _

_Which led you to sister Death_

_You, with all your knowledge, nothing will change,_

_But without you nothing would change. _

He leaned back and looked at Nikos. He was stunned.

- Well, it seems that's talking about you, brother Healer. You must be the Wise.

- That scares me.

- Why? The other two candidates are discarded. The Turkish girl is dying and the Romanian professor was murdered. And here, right now, there's only one Wise who could interpret what her mouth has announced.

Marcus shook his head and closed his eyes. He was so tired...

He felt the abbot's comforting hand on his shoulder:

- Maybe that's why you survived. They kept you alive first; you were imprisoned for some reason, all to reach this day, this hour, when you're interpreting the song of a Sibyl. Nothing happens by chance, Marcus.

- I can't believe the reason for Eckhardt, Karel and finally Boaz kept me alive, was to become an obstacle to Lilith's plans.

- No one says you're an obstacle. Sybilla said that you would change nothing.

- Yes, but she says also that without me nothing would change.

- Such are the contradictory Sibyls, or perhaps our minds are short of understanding and don't have enough knowledge. - Nikos laughed.

Suddenly, an explosion was heard in the silence of the night. Both were startled. Accustomed to react to danger, Marcus stood, clutching the manuscript to his chest.

- That went from outside! - Nikos said turning around.

- Yes, -muttered Marcus- it has been a shot.

(…)

- I have to see her again.

How stubborn she was, for the Light's sake!

- You've already heard her. - Kurtis replied calmly – She doesn't want intruders in her home. We have done well in leaving her.

- Come on, Mr. Trent, are you telling me that a witch who doesn't reach your belt has scared you?

He turned towards Lara, who looked at him expectantly.

- She doesn't scare me. What scares me is what she might be able to do, and the forces that are with her and protect her.

- Have you seen something in her, right? Do you think it's true what she has told us?

Kurtis didn't answer. Lara let out a sigh of exasperation.

- Really, sometimes I can't understand you.

- I'm a very understandable man, Lara. Simply, I don't play with fire, because I know it will burn me. But you, even if you burn, you keep playing with it.

Assuming the discussion was over; he raised the canvas and left the tent. Lara's mouth twitched. It wasn't easy to deal with Kurtis when he smelled danger. No doubt he had developed a sense of survival in a really hard way, but for Lara, if she had never taken a risk occasionally, she wouldn't have got anything.

- Can I enter?

It was William's voice.

- Enter. - Lara said, wiping the sweat from her brow.

The ruddy archaeologist looked at her grimly. Lara felt that something was wrong with him. He had always been a good partner, but now seemed to distrust her. No doubt the conversation would be about it.

- Why are we here? – he said with a gesture of despair - For a moment I harbored the hope of reopening the excavation and restore this jewel for knowledge. But now Wilbur has come and told me that all you have done is to sneak through a hole and visit a supposed witch who lives in the temple. Come on, Lara! What the hell is going on?

She smiled patiently.

- I know it's hard to understand, but I didn't lie to you, William. We're looking for an entry to lead us to...

- Hell, Lara! You're getting lunatic! Tell me the truth, what are you plotting, both you and that lover of yours? Do you think that I haven't noticed that every night you get him in your bed?

Lara stood as driven by a spring.

- Is that your business, huh? When I want someone to investigate my life I will draw on British _paparazzi!_

- I warn you I haven't come to watch you wallowing with that one while you...

So that was it. Lara couldn't believe it.

- You're just jealous! – she whispered, surprised.

That sentence cut William's verbiage, who gave her a glance of resentment. He intended to disguise that, but here it was. After all that time...

- William, I thought I was clear when...

- Oh, but if you were _clear!_ The perfect Miss Croft rejected me in a very royally way after this poor son of workers was encouraged by the false hopes of...

- I didn't give you false hopes, William!

- Oh, no! You just flirt with every living creature, and when a poor man thinks he can aspire to something more than your glances and your endless waltz, you crush him with your heel. As you crushed me! Are you also playing with him, bitch?

It was surreal. But she had to cut that.

- Stop your nonsense, William. You should have known at the time I wasn't interested in you. I don't play with men who don't interest me. I have my own concerns.

- Come on! And do you really think that I forget so easily, as you forgot me? Of course, a poor American is not proper for a _duchess of Saint Bridget_, and much less for the perfect Lara Croft.

- Get out of here. - Lara muttered, blushing. How dare he to call her by her title, which she hated, but which was necessary?

But William wasn't yet over.

- Tell me, how will receive the highest and most chaste British aristocracy the news about Lord Croft's daughter, that rebel stray bullet, who is now pregnant and unmarried of a mercenary with a dark past? It will be really exciting!

Lara looked at him speechless. He intended to hurt her seriously. He was perfectly capable of do it.

- Come on, Lara! Do you really think I hadn't noticed this? I'm not a queer like my brother, who never looks at a woman more than he would look at a fly. But I'm not stupid! How long will you be able to hide it, huh?

It was enough. She jumped from her seat and stood before William, with her face so close to his face that he drew back, startled.

- Go to hell. – she muttered. And passing next to him, she left the tent.

(…)

Kurtis plunged his hand into the bowl of water and splashed his face. At dusk the temperature was cooling, but even after a while his skin would be burning. He had always had a body temperature above the usual in other humans, as if he had a slight fever. Lara had been concerned at first, until he had assured her, laughing, that was typical of a Lux Veritatis, but he didn't know why. Probably was, as had been assured by the sages of the Council, something related to the flow of the Don.

He fixed his eyes on the horizon. The Temple of Astarte (or Lilith, whether to refer to Lara's theory) was, next to the small camp that had been assembled, the only structure that was seen for miles around. But even at that distance Kurtis was able to distinguish two forms that came walking down the road.

- I can talk to you?

He turned so abruptly that Maddalena screamed and backed away.

- Sorry, I didn't want to scare you.

- Don't worry. - she smiled, and looked at him languidly with those golden eyes.

If only she stopped looking at him like _that_. She seemed a thirsty person looking at a fresh water spring just found. _A thirsty person?_ Maddalena seemed about to die of dehydration, and he should seem to her not like a spring, but like an entire lake. She looked at him as if about to drink him over.

- What did you wanted to say?

But she reached out and touched his arm.

- You're burning! – she muttered shocked - You've gotten sick.

It was real concern for his situation or the lovely ploy of an expert in seduction? Probably both, he thought with dismay. It was impossible to refuse categorically to who was so loyal and friendly with him.

- It's normal, don't worry. - he replied, not wanting to go into more detail.

She didn't seem convinced, but she withdrew her hand.

- I'm worried. I think we'll have problems soon.

- Problems?

- I think William is suspicious of us. He has been harassing me all the time and ended with frantic questions. I didn't want to say anything but he hasn't stopped chasing me.

- You did well, Giulia.

- He seemed especially interested in your relationship with Lara. – she was twisting a red loop as she spoke. It was evident that she found painful to mention it - I think he's only going to hurt us. We shouldn't have called them, and we'd better get rid of them before they give us real problems.

Curiously, Kurtis was fully agreed with that. But it had been Lara's idea and when she insisted in something it was impossible to bend her will. Even Maddalena, whom Lara thought she was just a sticky whore, had been smart enough to have noticed that.

- You're right. The truth is that I tried to talk to her but she's very stubborn. Although I feel more uneasy with that Sybilla's issue.

The redhead listened at him with total interest. How many times Lara had listened to him like that, had requested his opinion, had found worthy what he thought? Not too many times, really. Her personality was so strong and overwhelming that even rolled up with him, who wasn't a weak man at all. But there he was, trusting a stranger who had fallen madly in love with him and listened to him with total adoration. Perhaps that was the difference between her love and Lara's love.

Then he thought this was going to bring more complications. He decided to leave the conversation there, so he apologized and turned away. She, offended, started to say something, but then she fell silent when she saw two people approaching from the road.

Kurtis smiled, but seemed surprised.

- What are you doing here?

Marie Cornel's silhouette, tall and wiry, was unmistakable. At her side, the slender Radha smiled shyly.

- You have no idea what a journey have we got! In one and a half day, from Romania to Syria. And then we had to walk from Damascus.

- In such thing I recognize my mother perfectly. - Kurtis mocked, hugging her.

- Ugh! - the woman backed out - I had forgotten that sometimes you're a furnace! Go away, you'll catch me on fire like a torch. Hello, Giulia – she politely said, nodding towards the redhead.

She waved back, cautious. That intelligent woman should be already aware that she was the third one in a love's triangle, but she still showed no signs of knowing that.

- Why have you come? - Kurtis asked then - Now things are a little calm, but that doesn't mean...

- Didn't Marcus tell you? - Marie interrupted him, startled.

- Marcus? No. But anyway, we've spent several days without connection. The site is not suitable.

She shook her head and covered her face with her hands.

- What has happened?

He would have wanted to avoid it, but the farsee came to him by instinct. He was raided by images which were followed one after another faster and faster.

_A bloody hook. A hospital's corridor. A Swiss knife lying on the floor. Blood on the carpet. Guts were stuck out her wound. Torn flesh. His skull has been crushed by a hit. Cries of pain! She's not breathing, she's not breathing. If she doesn't breath alone she won't wake up. Poor man, he just wanted to defend himself. They hung her like beef. They have scattered his brains over the floor. Now he sleeps underground. She has tubes in her throat. She doesn't breathe on her own. Zip cries. Vengeance. Innocent flesh. Crying meat. They shout. Vengeance. Vengeance. They've paid for you. He died for you. She's dying for you. That hatred is because of you, but they have suffered it instead of you._

The blood rushed to his brain. Pressure increased in his temples. His head was about to explode. He screamed in a horrible way.

- Kurtis!

It had happened again. Lara's dream. Selma was yelling, but she had no voice. Selma... Ivanoff... Selma... Ivanoff... the pain was unbearable. A red light blinded his eyes. His mouth tasted like blood. His skin was going to burst into flames.

- Kurtis, breathe!

_Why? He doesn't breathe, she can't do it alone. Do you think you have the right to breathe, to live, when they no longer can? How stupid you were. You wanted to save them, protect them, but you're so cursed that the same curse goes with you or remains to destroy the innocent whom you thought to love. It was easier to die, let it die out with you. You tried, but you're too strong even for them. So they will die for you, until you're alone, until there's no one left to love, and only then you'll succumb... you'll be their..._

His head exploded in a liquid fire, and then came the nothingness.

(…)

- Be quiet, he's awakening.

The shooting in his head didn't remit. They were like hammers that crush his head like nails sinking into his temples. A hot liquid ran up her throat and he spat it in an attempt to breathe.

The images were blurry, but he saw Lara and Marie next to him. Behind them, Maddalena and Radha were watching the scene, scared. The twins were not seen anywhere.

- Is this normal? – he heard Lara saying. She seemed very worried.

- To some extent, yes. Farsee is a very difficult to control capacity and has caught him off guard. He could have died, but luckily he vomited the blood which was doing pressure on...

- _He could have died?_ - Lara interrupted, looking horrified at Marie, who smiled.

- These things are like this, Lara. The Don is a power that is paid with body and mind. Don't worry. He's very familiar with death. We all were. – she said with a sinister voice.

- Mother, stop scaring her. - Kurtis gurgled, trying to get up. Two pairs of hands rested on his chest and forced him to lay again.

- Be still! - cried Marie - And now, all of you, get out of here! This is not a show!

That meant both Maddalena and Radha had to leave the tent, but after leaving, she imitated them and left Lara with him. He was sure she had ensured the twins didn't see that.

- You scared me to death. - Lara said, passing a handkerchief over his mouth. He noticed how the fabric was reddened.

- I didn't expect this. - he said - I'm sorry, it must have been a sorry spectacle.

- Don't worry. I told the twins you're epileptic and that's all. - looking at Kurtis' resentful glance, she laughed - Come on! What else did you expect me to say?

- No, it's true. Very clever of you. – he hardly sat and rested his shoulders on the pillow that Lara relocated. He looked at her tenderly – You're screwed, my love, with two children at your expense.

Lara laughed again.

- I'll manage. I'm good at improvising.

Watching her, he noticed that she looked worried about something, but she didn't exhibit any apparent bitterness brought by the sad news. He frowned.

- Didn't my mother said to you what happened to me?

- It was a vision. The Don has put too much pressure on you and has done it when you had low defenses.

- But didn't she tell you what I saw?

- Well, how was she supposed to know?

Kurtis swore.

- She already knew that. And I was so stupid to focus on other things, so I'd have seen it before and it hasn't been until now. Now! – he clenched his fists and sank his head on them, frustrated - Now I can't do anything for them!

- For who? - Lara jumped, startled.

It was useless to hide it longer.

- Ivanoff died and Selma is in a coma since soon after we left Romania.

- What? - Lara shouted, stunned.

Kurtis closed his eyes.

- It was two days after we left. That devil of Giselle Boaz arrived with her thugs to Brasov. She was following our track and when not finding us she baited her unhealthy hatred with them. She ordered to catch Selma, hang her and eviscerate her with a hook. – he tried to ignore Lara's choppy gasp – She almost died, but was saved in the hospital, although she has been plunged into a vegetative coma. And then, not satisfied with this, they attacked Vlad and blew his head of a strike, set fire to his office, destroying all documents and Zip's computer.

He wanted to be anywhere else. He knew that as if he had been there, but it had come to him too late!

He opened his eyes. Lara was in shock. She put her hands to her mouth and bent, as if she'd been hit.

- We left to save them!

- We were wrong, Lara. I was wrong. This damn Don that makes me as miserable as unique didn't warn me before. It's as if we had luck against us.

But she wasn't listening. She embraced herself and began to swing, tormented. Ivanoff had died. Poor Ivanoff, so weak, so harmless...

- He tried to defend himself with his ridiculous Swiss army knife. - Kurtis said bitterly.

Selma! Sweet, lovely Selma. She, who had never killed a fly... hanging and destroyed... and it was their entire fault!

- The dream, Kurtis! – she groaned - She screamed and _I couldn't hear her!_ That's what she was trying to tell me?

- I don't know, Lara. I don't know everything.

She grabbed her head and bent further. Selma... Vlad... Selma... Vlad...

- Now you know how it feels. - sighed Kurtis – Now you fully understand why at first I wanted you away from me. Why I left you.

Lara looked up at him. Her eyes welled with tears involuntarily, and she who was proud as a goddess, she began to mourn inconsolably.

Kurtis tried to embrace her, but she stepped back and looked back at him. She had a terrible expression in her reddened eyes.

- A life for a life. – she hissed through clenched teeth - That's what the Angel's Oracle said to me two years ago, when I chose you instead of Karel, when I saved your life and sentenced him. I killed a Nephilim. I can kill _anyone_. And I'll avenge of all, one by one. All they will pay for what they've done.

- Blood for blood. - Kurtis said, breathing hard – Giselle Boaz will die!

(…)

He got used to that.

Every day was the same. He got up, had breakfast and went up to wait patiently. He stood for hours looking through the glass, until the doctor arrived and allowed him to go and spend some time with her.

He recalled that some time ago, being disconnected from Internet more than a day would have he gone mad with anxiety. Now none of that made sense. His whole world had collapsed and its ashes had been swept away by the certainty that Selma would never wake up.

However, he had got used to living like this. He was even forgetting how her voice sounded when she laughed, when she spoke, how she moved and breathed. All memory faded at the sight of that white, still figure.

A vibration caught his attention. He looked up. Selma's breast had shuddered under her nightgown. He jumped from his chair and approached her. But again she had remained still. He returned to his chair uneasily.

For some time the doctor had proposed him to disconnect her. Disconnection sessions had not worked. Selma wasn't breathing, and her maintenance was expensive. She never seemed to leave her comatose state. Was not it better to release her, let her rest? Would have she enjoyed to be kept alive?

No!, he had shouted. No! But what death really wanted he to avoid, Selma's or his own? Because when Selma died, he would climb to Bran's pinnacle and cast himself into the void. He would have nothing left.

_Our death, my princess. The death of both us._

The fabric vibrated again. Zip jumped back.

- Nurse! Nurse!

Soon, the doctor was there.

- I've seen her moving! I swear! She moved!

The doctor, frowning, bent over her, and at once uttered an exclamation of astonishment. Then he laughed.

- Nurse! – he cried - We can definitely turn her off!

Zip couldn't believe what he was hearing.

- Have you gone mad, damn quack?

The doctor turned his face towards him and smiled.

- But, fool! Haven't you seen? _She's breathing on her own!_

(…)

So terrible was the revelation, and so strong her desire for revenge, that she forgot to tell Kurtis about the discussion with William. Anyway something as terrible as Ivanoff's murder and Selma's sad status turn insignificant that detail.

That night, Lara, alone in her bed, was seething with rage. Kurtis had come to stand guard at night and she couldn't sleep. She felt a terrible desire of putting a gun in Giselle's mouth and shoot. She wanted to destroy beautiful Bathsheba's face with a bullet. She felt such desire to kill until drowning in her own thirst for blood.

Oh, she was sure, they would pay. Sorrow for sorrow, they would pay. That convinced her more than ever to carry out her plan to trick Bathsheba. But first she must consult with someone...

A sound got her out of her thoughts on the boil. There was someone lurking outside. She could see a shadow. Well, maybe Kurtis. It would be nice he came back; perhaps he'll help her to sleep...

The canvas fabric rose sharply and a dark shadow fell upon her. Lara tried to get up but the assaulter fell on her with his tremendous weight. She tried to scream, but a huge paw blocked her mouth. The weight was suffocating and was crushing her belly. She squirmed, but that figure completely covered her.

Her attacker's skin -a man certainly- was cold as ice, and gave off a foul fetid breath. She heard a rattling wheezing like animals, and then she noticed the hardness of his erect penis against her strangled belly.

She wriggled like an eel, but failed to release; even she was a very strong woman. The big hand followed gripping her mouth, and suddenly, her attacker lifted the other hand and slammed his fist against or her face with a tremendous punch. Her cheekbone broke with pain.

She resisted furiously, and suddenly he turned back to beat her once, twice, three times, until she noticed her face burning of pain and her lips filled with blood. She fell, stunned. In other circumstances she could have escaped from her attacker, but not in such a confined space or while he was crushing her with all his weight.

She took air to cry, but again a punch cut her off breath. She collapsed, defeated, and her assailant stood gripping her hips with his strong knees. He grabbed her by the neck to make sure that she wouldn't attempt to shout and with the other hand grabbed the neck of her nightgown's and ripped it, breaking the material down. Then the hand began to grope brutally her breast and belly.

She couldn't believe it! After so much progress made, many risks and extreme danger endured, after having risked her life a thousand times, a man was about to rape her in her own bed!

Who was him? She couldn't see him in the dark. It was clear it couldn't be Kurtis. He would never have raised his hand against her, and although he was certainly aggressive at times when making love (which, on the other hand, she liked) he would never have been able to force her against her will, not even being drunk, and she still hadn't seen him drunk since he knew him. Therefore, it could only be William.

She felt disgust and anger. How could he? She didn't expect him to respect her for being pregnant, but she was furious to have been caught with guard down.

Then, the attacker raised his leg and unloaded the weight of his knee between her two thighs pressed together, trying to separate them. Lara resisted with all her soul, and again received blows on the face, one fell on her stomach and she bent in pain.

What if she surrendered? She could open her legs and let him do, so that all was over before and he would never hit her again. But the mere idea of

being possessed against her will made her shiver with disgust. Putai had been right. She wasn't a woman that could support a violation. No one had ever forced her, and who had tried to do that had paid with his life. But now she was helpless. However, there was a possibility that once relieved, he tried to kill her. But if she continued to resist he'll kill her by hitting.

And then she knew what she had to do. She released the pressure and finally her attacker may open her legs. She began to sob to make him believe he had won, and was surprised to notice that relieved her, such was the pain she felt. The tears fell on her face's cuts and stung. She noticed she was bleeding from mouth and nose, but didn't dare to move.

The man bit the bait. He released her and stood to unbutton his pants. With an imperceptible movement, Lara slid her arm under the pillow and searched, praying that her knife was there. It was! She grabbed the handle and gently removed it from its scabbard. It might hurt also her, but anything seemed better to endure the terrible humiliation that awaited to her.

Her attacker was lying above her, while still running over her body with his filthy hands. Lara, meaning she was no longer resistive, raised her legs and pushed her knees to the hips of the man. In the darkness, she lifted her arms with both hands holding the handle. She trembled, but the other, focused on fingering and biting her breasts, didn't noticed. Lara tried to hold on her nausea.

The tip of the knife was pointing at his back. Lara had to figure out exactly where to sink the blade. In the darkness it was difficult to do so. She could also hurt herself if she went through with the blade, but she was willing to take risks.

Suddenly, she noticed that he adjusted his position and grabbed her by the shoulders. He was about to penetrate her, so it was now or never. Making a deep breath, she lowered her hands and plunged the blade into the other's arched back. She plunged it to the hilt, determined to destroy him.

The other stood still. For a moment Lara feared not having hit him, but then she heard an inhuman scream. He stood up and she heard him writhe convulsively.

Lara hadn't failed. She had plunged the blade in an important point. The wound was fatal.

He kept screaming. Lara felt a rain of hot liquid (blood) splashing her nude body. She tried to get up, but his attacker's hands grabbed her by the neck.

Suddenly the canvas of the tent raised and she heard a cry of rage. A dark shadow crossed the tent in a stride and she distinguished Kurtis' silhouette at backlit. He unleashed a terrible kick on the attacker's jaw. He hit him with such force that tore him from where he was and threw him down. He gave him no time to move. Kurtis fell upon him and she heard them struggling, then she heard a metallic sound, and instantly his screams ceased.

Someone came in carrying a lantern. Lara was willing to cover her nakedness, but it was only Marie. The Indian woman was looking at her horrified.

- Holy God!

Her face must be looking horrible. Kurtis was now with her.

- Have you killed him? - Lara mumbled through a mouthful of blood.

- No. - Kurtis said, his voice tense - You killed him. I've only finished him.

According to the expression on his face, Lara knew he blamed himself for not having been with her to defend her.

- There's nothing broken. - ruled Marie - I will heal the blows. Let me touch your belly.

But Lara took her hands apart and looked at Kurtis:

- Who is it? Who?

Kurtis put an arm around her waist and helped her up. They went to the corpse, and then Kurtis kicked it to make it face up.

She had been right. He was one of the twins. But not the one she had expected.

Despite their great similarity, she recognized that medal that only one of the two always use to carry. A bloody medal.

She shrank and screamed in pain. Because it wasn't William.

It was Wilbur.

(…)

- Assassin!

William had his temples' veins swollen and bloodshot eyes. He looked at Lara with a hatred that she hadn't long seen in the eyes of a rival.

- Assassin! – he repeated - You killed him!

It was a sad scene. Lara and Kurtis were in front of him, his brother's body was on a table next door, and Maddalena, Radha and Marie watched at them in silence.

- I killed him in self defense. - Lara argued - He tried to rape me.

She didn't see Maddalena shuddering to hear that, because her eyes were fixed on William, who suddenly seemed to choke.

- Did he try to rape you? – he yelled – Did _my brother_ try to rape you? Do you really think I'm stupid, fucking bitch?

He stepped forward. Lara noted that Kurtis was stiffening. He was trying to control himself for not casting on William to lash him. She touched his wrist imperceptibly, though she was almost willing to make him shut up. Surprisingly, Kurtis intervened:

- Your brother's homosexuality is not an obstacle to an attempt to attack her. It hasn't to do one thing with another. I've been in the Legion, where the soldiers didn't care whether boy or girl, I assure you.

- Well, then probably it has been _you_ who attempted to rape her!

Marie stood resolute, and surrounding Radha's shoulder, took her away. It was obvious she considered that this conversation wasn't suitable for the girl's ears, although Radha probably didn't understand it and was far more mature than they thought.

- That's absurd, William, and you know it. - Lara said, exhausted – I'm terrified of what has happened, but I never would have suspected it was Wilbur. In addition to the rape, he could have killed me. I had to defend myself.

But he clearly didn't believe her. At the end of the day, who could blame him? She herself couldn't believe what had just happened!

Kurtis, more practical, decided:

- I guess you want to bring your brother's body back to America.

William spat at his feet.

- You also have things to answer for! – he looked from one to the other – I'll denounce you! Both of us! I'll charge you on murder and you'll end behind bars!

- Let's go. - Lara snapped, turning around and leaving the tent. Maddalena followed her. But Kurtis stared at William. He held his gaze for a moment, then he turned and returned to sit beside the corpse, covered by a sheet, of his brother.

Kurtis hadn't finished. He came to the corpse and took his hand, sticking out under the blanket.

- Look at this, William.

He ostensibly turned his head and frowned. Under the nails of his brother were small pieces of skin peeled off.

- It's Lara's skin. - Kurtis took a deep breath - Your brother grabbed her by the neck and scratched her chest. Are you still denying it was he who attacked?

William's lips trembled. He was coming down.

My brother - he gasped - was always loving and tolerant. In his whole life he didn't hurt anything or anyone, not even stepped on an ant. He just did well to those around him. It's inconceivable he would attack her, and less for a sexual motive.

Kurtis also couldn't believe it, because obviously Wilbur had proved to be harmless. But he was too angry to tread finesse to the man who had lost his brother. Lara was injured and could have being killed. He neither had been able to prevent Ivanoff's death and Selma's status. He felt angry and helpless, and for the first time he was talking to a God in whom he didn't believe.

_Why I was given a Don if I can't use it to protect anyone?_

(…)

Lara endured, without complaint, Marie touching and examining her face, which hurt horribly. Maddalena was horrified. Wilbur's fist had beaten her so viciously that his knuckles had cut her skin, opening bloody furrows. She could hardly breathe through the nose, which was swollen and filled with dried blood, and only by a miracle it hadn't been broken. Her entire face was swollen and had acquired a horrible purple coloring, not to mention she already had one eye closed because of swelling. Her lips weren't less swollen, and were covered with scabs. Incredible, too, she hadn't any tooth broken.

- You've been very lucky again. – said Marie, putting on a brave face, and extended an ointment on the blows.

Maddalena was surprised of Lara's docility with Marie, but then she remembered something like that woman had saved her life before, when Monteleone shoot at her, so it wasn't strange she was at least grateful with her.

She remembered Monteleone at that moment, the man whom she had loved for some time and remained with him until she fled from him. She wondered how was possible he wouldn't have sent some men looking for her, and if he would miss her.

She still didn't know he was dead.

- Well, that's all. - determined Marie.

- Give me a mirror. - Lara said to Maddalena. She knew the prostitute was always carrying beauty items, out of habit.

- Lara, you look really awful. - Marie said - No need to look at you...

But Maddalena had already reached to her the round pocket mirror. For some reason she expected Lara to look at herself soon. She approached the mirror to her face and watched herself carefully. She made no gesture and carefully assessed the damage. She had never seen such amazing woman. Then she sighed and laid back the mirror to the redhead.

- Well, with this face, I hope your son doesn't confuse me at night with a demon. - she sneered towards Marie, who couldn't avoid laughing at the comment.

- Come on, Radha - the Indian woman told the girl. This one, however, grabbed Lara's arm and said:

- Please, let me stay with her, Marie.

- Lara's very tired, Radha, it would be better...

- Let her, Marie. - Lara smiled through her cracked lips - Then I will send her to your tent.

Marie nodded and left. Maddalena moved to leave, but suddenly turned towards Lara. She looked at her, stunned.

Her eyes were filled with tears. She blinked to clear them and said what she never wanted to say:

- I envy you, Lara. I wish I were as strong as you. – she hesitated, then added quickly - When men have done anything like that to me, I never had the courage to resist.

Then she turned and hurried out without giving time to Lara to say anything, ashamed of having shown weakness before who she regarded as her rival.

Lara stood silent for a moment, surprised. But then she noticed that Radha was looking at her.

- She knows what she's talking about, _bahanji_. That evil man, who came to the Island with the other mercenaries, raped her there.

Lara looked at her in amazement, raising her eyebrows.

- Do you mean Sciarra? Did you see how he raped her?

Radha made a fuss with her hand.

- Don't know if that was his name. But yes, I saw him. He raped her and so I killed him.

The British explorer then winced and put her hand to her cheek in a gesture of pain.

- What did you do...?

Radha, killing someone? Radha, sweet and harmless, with her big eyes and her tender and candid smile? Killing someone?

- Did you kill Sciarra?

The feat was as incredible as unscrupulous that monster. She, a fifteen-years-old girl, had killed him!

- I killed him because I hate men doing that to women. - she frowned - And because a man did the same to me long ago. Then I swore to Durga that if someone tried to do that to me again, or I saw another unfortunate like me suffering that, I'd kill or die. And nobody must break an oath made to Durga.

Despite her poor English, Lara was stunned and shocked. She would never have expected anything like this in Radha! Never!

- I thought Kurtis saved you from being raped by soldiers. – she stammered.

- And he did so, _bahanji_. But later I was given to another man... that's it. I also admire you. She's right. You're strong and brave.

Radha admired _her?_ God, she had killed Sciarra! That changed everything. Radha wasn't a timid and helpless little girl!

- I haven't taken care of you as needed. - she muttered, confused.

She just smiled. So candidly.

- I'm fine. Mrs. Marie is good with me and cares for me.

_For if this is so, you don't need anyone to look after you, amazing creature._

- Radha... - then murmured Lara - I don't think I can even sleep tonight. Would you tell me your story?

- My story? - The girl blinked.

- Yes, not that one of your childhood before the Legion's appearance. What happened to you afterwards, until you met me. Would you tell me?

Radha wrinkled her nose.

- It's a very ugly story.

- As you can see - Lara said, stroking her swollen cheek - I'm more than used to the ugliness of this world.

The girl nodded and smiled, and then began her story.

(…)

- Makarios! - Nikos shouted, leaving the hall - What happens?

The old monk who used to do night guard was coming towards them. His face was contorted:

- _Patér!_ – he shouted - Tell the young, we're being..!

Behind him appeared a black shadow who grabbed him by the neck. Nikos saw a glint of metal and instantly a jet of blood emerging from Makarios' open throat. The old man collapsed on the floor without a whimper.

The man stepped forward. And after him another one. And another. Nikos was looking in the face of death.

He turned and ran down the hall. The horde of men went after him, but he soon reached the door and closed it. Marcus looked at him, stunned.

- Brother! - cried the abbot - Help me to stuck this!

Marcus pushed the heavy desk against the door with his weak forces. They heard a gun cocked and thrown themselves to the ground at the time a burst of shrapnel splintered the wood of the door.

- We have no way out! - shouted the Healer.

But Nikos shook his head:

- There's always a way out. – he crawled across the floor towards a hatch Marcus hadn't seen before - Bring the codex!

The door had begun to vibrate constantly, assaulted by blows from the outside. There were shouts, oaths, and scurrying down the hall. They were attacking the monastery!

The trapdoor leaded to a stone staircase and they descended rapidly.

- If we can go this way, they also will do!

- I know, but I must warn everyone! The bell must be rang! - gasped the Abbot - Who would attack this sacred place, full of innocent men?

- The Cabal. - Marcus snorted behind him – Those are Giselle's men.

(…)

Kurtis came out to breathe. He had come to see Lara and had found her talking with Radha. He hadn't wanted to bother her, but he felt as if his blood boiled when seeing the wounds she had. He was very angry. Lara could take care of herself but she wasn't invulnerable or invincible. And he should have been there.

He wasn't surprised to discover Maddalena nearby, next to the still hot embers from the fire. She looked herself in a rounded mirror and was tweaking the _rouge_ from her lips.

Kurtis couldn't avoid smiling. It was funny to see someone putting on lipstick in a desert. But it should be a deep-rooted custom in her.

He sat opposite of her, who lifted her eyes and looked at him.

- You should sleep a little.- the redhead murmured- It was a tough day and you haven't had time to rest.

Kurtis asked if all women had a small Marie Cornel on the inside.

- For a moment I've rest, look what happened .- he muttered, picking up a stick and breaking it into two pieces – Anyway, I haven't slept so much for years.

She just closed the lipstick and put out the mirror. Then she stared at him.

- That priestess knows things.

- Are you talking about the Sybilla?

- Yes, well, that prophetess. If prophets know everything, she may be able to help us, isn't it?

- She didn't seem very willing to collaborate with us.

- Then, put a gun in her face.

The man looked up at her, but Maddalena didn't seem to be joking.

- I'm not used to threaten who's not a threat to me.

- But according to what you said, she's not a harmless girl. I think the more we wait, the more terrible things will happen to us. We must anticipate events, otherwise the events will anticipate us.

She shuddered at feeling Kurtis' piercing eyes fixed on her. For such glance she would had given her own life.

- I imagine all that was suggested by _her_.

- Who? - Maddalena was stunned.

- She who's on your mind. They're so smart, huh? When they talk, everything seems so easy, right?

The redhead flushed. Then she muttered:

- You're wrong, I ...

- Just for the record: despite my constant and imminent failures, I'm clairvoyant and I'm _not_ stupid. I noticed the Voice hasn't left you alone. It's impossible for demons to hide from me, just as impossible for me to hide from them.

Maddalena took a deep breath:

- She always talks to me, but she doesn't harm me anymore.

- However, her presence is harmful. She's like a spy for a higher evil which hangs over us.

- I tell you what I've said was said on my own! She doesn't manipulate my thoughts, nor telling me what to say ...

- No. They're only limited to whisper ideas, tips, projects, and they're so darn smart that it seems easier if you just follow their orders. I can't do more for you, Giulia, but for the good of all us, I beg you not to listen to that thing. She just wants our destruction, even is she's apparently gentle.

Before she could answer, William appeared and ran towards them, his face contorted. He had such look of panic on his face that Kurtis raised immediately:

- Hey, you! - he cried.

- Name's Kurtis.

Kurtis! - he was too terrified to appear pedantic – Come on, quickly! _Something horrible is happening to my brother's corpse!_

(...)

In the darkness of her cave, dimly lit by the vague, dancing lights issued by the embers of the fire, not used for heating but for cooking substances, the Sybilla lifted up her blind eyes to the rocky ceiling, feeling again the presence of the creature.

It was a Golem.

She sighed and turned her face to the warmth of the fluctuating fire. A Golem was a rough strategy for the Lords she served, even if they used the soul of a cruel man in a docile and malleable body. She wondered why they were so carefully. Yes, the Lux Veritatis was dangerous, but _so much?_ The prophetess had sounded his aura, which shone bright amid the perpetual darkness in which she lived, and hadn't seen more than a gaping hole. And who could see beyond more than her? Yes, he was a special man, and had managed to be infinitely powerful, but yet neither then he would have been a worthy rival of the Lords. A mortal could _never_ be a rival of immortals. Had he destroyed the last Nephilim? Yes, but even _that_ was expectable. He, who in life had called himself Karel, had corrupted himself through his dreams of redemption and recreation, to the point of mixing with mortals and staying at their level.

The Sybilla no longer considered herself a mortal. Thousands of mortal lives she had trodden on the earth and the creature she was now was far from that ancient pagan girl whom the Darkest Lord had blessed with a gift which would have made the envy of Apollo's don. She, who like the same Cassandra would had given her virginity and life for the gift of prophecy, she had met a Being who was above all the gods she knew and He hadn't asked for anything in return.

She didn't even remember her name, given by a mother whom she never returned. Sybilla Satanica. Sybilla Satanica. Until the end of time.

She was very tired. After all, Samael Himself had asked her something in return. Her body, her life. But yet then it was a very little loose for her, who wanted to be a banquet of the gods, who wanted nothing with mortals. Now, having lived a few hundreds of lives, she felt the oppressive weight of her eternal mission, a weight she couldn't resist anymore.

- My Lord Samael, why don't you take me with You? - she whispered, tired - I can't help. I need to be taken away by Your black wings to Your burning bosom. I can't withstand the weight of the world anymore.

She grabbed the bones which decorated her neck and whispered:

- The Lux Veritatis' worthless. He could be a good specimen, but hate and pain had already consumed him. He's not but a vague shadow, eager to sacrifice. He won't survive to the Bitter Path, since only the strong can overcome it, and his strength is not of that kind. His strength is only physical. With each dim glow of his aura I've seen Death calling loudly for him. He endured an unworthy torture from which he could have escaped easily. He's really fascinating, but I think he's not your goal, My Dark Lord, or your Holy Bride's one.

"But who is then, my Lord? The woman explorer? She's clever and intelligent, but she's not more than a mortal. If she destroyed Your last child, it was for his weakness, as You know. No, she'll succumb too. Bitter Path means dealing with everything and oneself, with the Voragine's horrors , but also with the ghosts inside. And she won't survive to her own. "

"My Lord, maybe the creature she's carrying in her womb, which could be your goal. Well, hasn't ordered your Holy Blessed Wife to your Daughter to sacrifice it in honor of the shed blood of the Immortals? I hardly caught a sight of him in the distance, it's just a vague shadow. Can an unborn mortal bother You, Who can do all things, Who defied the Creator Himself? Why don't You answer me? It's such a long silence and Thy maid is blind and lost."

She sighed again and got up from her throne with a patter of small bones and shells.

Why a Golem, My Lord? The Lux Veritatis easily overpowers it, he's yet strong enough for it. What do you want, oh Samael? What do you hope from your Blessed Daughter? To what strange fate has your Holy Bride sent her?

(...)

- To my death, O Mother! To my death!

The vacuum air swallowed her cry. The stormy wind shook her black hair, which hit her face, bare shoulders and back. The relentless rain slashed her almost naked body, from which hung pieces of her torn clothing. The cloak had fallen a long way back, and had been caught in a rocky outcrop, the same which marked her endless rise as such marked the trail left by her little feet in the snow.

Alone at the top of the mountain, Bathsheba screamed to the night and to the storm. No other place in the world could have accepted her misery and grief. She would never have imagined there was anything worse than being used for the propagation of her Breed. But there was the evidence. Evidence that she was unable to cope after the terrible revelation of the cardinal.

Any other mortal man, woman and man would have died there and also long before, with so little air to breathe, with snow and ice which would had burned and rotted flesh, starting from the extremities, with cutting air which would have torn the lungs, sharp rain which would have cut the skin like paper. But she just felt cold, it had just bruised her skin, she barely noticed the rain and wind and the elements that couldn't destroy her.

For once, she who had a human heart still in an immortal body, she wanted to feel all that pain and suffering. She felt disgust for her perfect body, her idyllic beauty, she wanted to punish her body, hit it with sharp blades, tearing her skin, her muscles, her soft breasts. She couldn't ignore she would be sacrificed, and she couldn't believe it would be for the Mother who was going to save her from that disgusting world.

- Mother! - she shouted back with her rending voice - Answer me! You know what I've just discovered! Come to comfort your daughter!

The burst of thunder and the roar of the storm were the only answer. She scratched her cheeks, her face, neck, breasts and belly, wanting to hurt that flesh she hated, wishing to see her colorless and tasteless blood spring, but all wound was repaired. She neither could just feel the pain nor relieve his guilt. Impure. Sullied. Human heart in immortal flesh.

If the blood of Lilith hadn't cleaned her of that taint, would the Bitter Path do? Maybe that was what the Mother had intended to say? Maybe she would be sacrificed to repair that impurity?

Human tears, woman's tears, froze on her cheeks. Her knees bended and her mouth kissed the snow. Then she collapsed and lay in the snow, whose flakes began to nest in her hair strands.

The climb had been long, she had climbed to that inclement peak with bare hands, when she could have come instantly without exhausting herself, but her soul demanded a penance that the body didn't accept, and the pain and exhaustion were not in it.

They were in her inside.


	42. Chapter 41: Black Eyes

**Chapter 41: Black Eyes**

When I escaped from the Legion, _bahanji_, I returned to Khusuma Bharadji. At the end of the day that was all I could do, as I knew no other home. I found my home village destroyed, but we, the untouchable, never had too many possessions, and had capacity to reborn when trampled. Father had died, my two younger brothers as well, but my mother and another brother had survived. I was the only daughter so I was, as I later learned, the only problem for my family.

We wept for the dead, but it was actually a relief. In my village there was very little food and too many mouths to feed. We cried more for men than for women and more for adults than for children, but all came to pass in the opinion of the gods.

I never saw my sister Sita again. I still weep for her at night, because I had no right to mourn in public for her, I couldn't even ask for her. My sister was dead for a long time before due to the ritual curses of my people, but for me she had remained alive until then.

Forgive me, _bahanji_, if I'm crying now. Sita was dearer to me than all human beings of this world. I'd rather hear her voice again before all earthly sounds. I would happily turn blind and dumb to bring her back. The worst thing is I don't know if she's dead or alive, but she's likely to be killed because she never came back. I was the only one to consider her a human being, I was the one who brought food to her! She must be dead. Hopefully she would have found the path of light to her next life, and could be reincarnated into something happy and beautiful.

(...)

When I returned to my village, I had to face reality. Mother had been widowed and had no body to incinerate and be burned alive next to it as it's required of worthy wives. She covered herself in white clothes and abandoned herself to mourning. And it was my older brother who decided I should marry because I was annoying to the survival of our breed.

They chose for me Rahula Ramaswami, who was a good option in his seventieth year. Don't look at me like that, _bahanji,_ our people often rely young wives to mature and experienced husbands. The elder Rahula had eight wives and fifteen children, between living and dead, and I was twelve years old when I married him.

To my wedding didn't go my mother, since a widow is banned from all social life, nor my dead father and brothers, nor my older brother who sold me as if I was a cow. I remember the overwhelming weight of the fabrics and jewels of my trousseau, my wrinkled and bent husband expecting me, but above all, I'm unable to forget a couple of black eyes in particular. His black eyes.

His name was Taresh Ramaswami, and was one of the minor children of Rahula. He was eighteen and he was handsome as a god. All the girls of the village would have longed to marry him, but he still had no wife. It was rumored that he was violent, lazy and quarrelsome, but that fateful day I remained trapped in his black eyes and his gorgeous smile which followed me when my husband lifted the veil and everyone could see me. Until then I had been the girl Radha, but from that moment I became Radha the woman, the wife of Rahula, and as such I was considered from that moment. Comments were made about my beauty, exaggerated of course, since the really beautiful one among all my brothers had been Sita, until her husband, Durga punish him with a grim reincarnation, disfigured her.

I wanted to disappear, but the reality is that I was now his wife. I moved to my husband's home and there I joined his family. I was lucky because none of the eight wives was still alive, so that I could be the chief wife and not be subjected to others, but the truth is that my married life was like hell. I think you're imagining, _bahanji_, how was my wedding night. Oh, don't look at me with such compassion. It's certainly disgusting to think of a sickly old man trying to copulate with who, for you, Westerners, was still a child, but the truth is that Rahula was impotent because of their age. He had lost all strength in his member. That was much worse than if I had been deflowered, because when dawn came, I was terrified, what would I be if I couldn't conceive a child? I just had my menstrual period for first time a few months before, but nothing could be done by an old man who refused to admit his impotence. And my people always blame the woman, do what you do. I was afraid, and in that dreadful night Taresh' smile hovered over me, of course, he must have known that his father was no longer able to impregnate a woman!

I cursed my brother for having doomed me to such a marriage, which would be my death, with only a pretext to get rid of me. I don't even utter his name, I hope the gods curse him and his wife won't never give sons to him.

For weeks I gave myself to women's work in home and in the fields, with all the dedication of the world. No one would complain about me, for I was meek and submissive as expected. There was only one drawback, the people murmuring, _how? Didn't she got pregnant?_ If it was rumored that I was barren, I could give myself for dead, left for dead as my disfigured sister.

All this time I had lived under the dark shadow of Taresh's glance, who lounged around me and the rest of the people. He was handsome and strong, and so moody that even her elderly father couldn't put him in line. It was hard to admit it, but I had fallen as prey to his eyes and his smile, his dark skin and curly hair. I used to thought I was haunted, now I know I was in love. I didn't pay much heard to the rumors circulating about him. They said that in addition to drinking and fooling around, he cornered the girls in remote locations and raped them. But when I looked at him, I could see only his piercing eyes and his seductive smile, and I felt totally seduced, like so many others that should not have resisted to him. So attractive!

(...)

One day I was busy in preparing the _chapatis_ -which are the basis of our diet- and I noticed a dark shadow covering the sun and looking up, I saw him. He smiled mischievously and was so close to me that I could feel the smell of his sweat. I withdrew, feeling annoyed, since it's not lawful for a man to approach the wife of another, and I was the wife of his father! Moreover, I was _his mother_ in the practical sense of the word!

- Radha - whispered his warm voice – why you don't get pregnant?

I blushed to the roots of my hair. It was obscene to talk directly to me, and even talk of a taboo subject!

- I'll tell you-again hissed him - My father has failed to act as a male, right?

Without waiting for an answer, he threw his head back and laughed. I wish I had been kidnapped by the avenging Durga at that moment, but I was there to suffer all the humiliation.

- That old crook is a fool to believe he can still fuck a woman - you can't imagine the horror I felt when I heard him talking like that, _bahanji_. Speaking evil of a father is like spitting on the altar of the gods, but also his language was so foul that must have mourned the divinity - What a waste. A woman given to unable member. And you're longing for a good upright member, I see.

So saying, oh gods, he bent over and squeezed my breast through the _sari_. I screamed and jumped back, and he laughed. I barely had breasts then, just born, but he had found them through the thick fabric with ease. I was trembling all over, but still, how powerful was his fascination for me! How I was enamored of his beauty!

- You need a man to make you feel like a woman – he said mockingly - If my father doesn't fulfill any other needs to meet with you and leave you pregnant, right? Who wants a woman who can't get children?

He touched my breasts, and by then I had already risen and receded quickly. He laughed sarcastically, funny with my outrage.

- Don't play with me! All your family are whores, don't you know? Your mother, a whore, your sisters, bitches and the most bitch of all them, that hooker with the burned face, who was the whore of all those white soldiers!

I couldn't believe that gods didn't punish him for the atrocities he was dropping. I thought the sky was blackened, but the darkness was inside me, burning me with his words.

- What do you say about my sister Sita!

- She was the whore of the Legion. When she could, she crawled into the camp of those butchers and opened the _sari_ for them to be fucked. One after another! What I say! Sometimes two and three at a time!

I covered my ears.

- She let her veil put on, so they hadn't to see her ugly face! They wouldn't have not wanted to fuck with her! But this way, all were willing to take advantage of her.

- That's not true!

- Am I lying? Is that you're insinuating? I have seen that nasty with them! And you must be such a whore like her. Or you're not wishing you a true man fucking you?

I stepped back a little more. I wanted to ask for help, but I wasn't allowed. If I was seen alone with a man, it will be his word against mine, and his will prevail, because he was male. He would accuse me of infidelity. I've never been so scared in my life. This fear reduced my forces to nothing.

Taresh came smiling, but he had his black eyes printed with the fire of lust.

- You're pretty... you're quite pretty. Come, let yourself do. I'll show what can do a true man.

I let out a scream when he grabbed me, but I immediately silenced. I should not alert anyone, my reputation was at stake. And if I had long fought for my life and my honor, then I didn't have any strength to resist. Part of me felt terribly attracted for him, and therefore I almost didn't complained, I let myself be dragged to a nearby shed. There he lay me down and opened my _sari_, and then straddled me, ignoring my pleas. I felt pain and noticed I was bleeding, but it would have been far worse if anyone would have discovered that. I don't know how long he remained panting over me, then he unleashed his energy and collapsed on me without letting me get up. I was terrified. A part of me knew I had been raped, but I hadn't resisted and the truth was that it seemed not so bad as when those legionnaires were about to do the same to me. I wondered if I really had been forced or if I simply made love with a beautiful young man whom I was in love. Such was my blindness, but I was only twelve years!

I cried quietly for a while. He then moved and turned away from me, rolling to one side, and looked satisfied his work. I imagine a man like him must have enjoyed seeing a woman so weak, scared, with torn clothes, naked and showing crudely her bloodstained thighs and sex. But I wasn't crying for what he had done. I cried for what I he had said about Sita. Was it true that, beset by hunger and despair, my sister had prostituted herself to the soldiers? Was it the justification for those absences, the sadness in her voice, the depletion of her body? That doubt and pain were destroying me.

Taresh's hand went through my body again, shamelessly exploring my sex and my thighs. His mocking voice whispered in my ear:

- I think you liked it. Do you see? You're as bitch as the others. But I like riding whores in various ways. And since you liked it and you're not a righteous wife...

Holding tight me by the arms, he turned me towards the floor and raped me again, from the behind, crushing my face on the straw. Seeing me so crudely exposed excited him again. I was raped even more brutally than before, listening him panting and moaning hard while I was praying for anyone not to heard us. Relieved after a second time, he got up and left, leaving me there.

(…)

You're staring at me with horror, _bahanji_, but I know I didn't disgusted you. Now I've learned a lot from you. But at that time I still thought as my people, and I felt guilty. What was clear: led by the lust of a virgin womb without satisfaction, I had been leading Taresh with my beauty and my youth , who, powerless against my wickedness networks, had been forced to ease up on me. What if I got pregnant? Rahula would know that it could not be his son! Just when I began to think I would have to find a solution, the old man managed to have sex with me, and just thinking about it makes me feel sick, but I nothing terrified me more than knowing Taresh could get back to me! I still felt haunted by his fascination. I was horrified at myself and my head was a mass of contradictory thoughts.

As I feared, Taresh came back to me. From that time, he didn't waste any time to return to have me. I got caught by him anywhere, in our cabin, out on the field or at the edge of town. He seized me and dragged me to a discreet place, and there he raped me as he pleased, several times. I was raped in all the positions he was able to imagine and soon he began to demand my participation ; it was very nice for him to use my mouth to give pleasure to his member, though I, woe to me! I was expecting the punishment of the gods on my impure soul. Soon my body was no longer mine to become a temple in which he vented all his cravings. He even stopped pestering other girls, the gods know what he had seen in me! And I was always docile and complacent, partly because I was afraid that he might be known that abomination, partly because he fascinated me. Even I admit that after a while I stopped feeling pain, as if my body has definitely molded and rendered to that member which assaulted me relentlessly.

However much you try, _bahanji_, never understand the shame I felt. I made real atrocities just to avoid a major disgrace. As Rahula couldn't beget a child and soon stopped trying, I had to destroy a couple of times the children engendered by Taresh in me. It's horrible to think, although ours is a country that doesn't hesitate to sacrifice their mouths that can't be fed, but I kill them for my own survival. Something about, apparently, Taresh didn't care. I was foolish and coward.

(...)

I saw my life pass as if I had already lived it. I was afraid to try again to abort, because the last time there was too much bleeding, although it would have been honorable to die, but I was a coward. And suddenly, everything changed one night, when grinding the grain to Rahula's bowl. He was sitting in front of me, withered and old, and then he said:

- Look at me, Radha.

Of course, among our people is not polite for a woman to look directly at a man in the eyes, so I just look at his chin. He sighed and took my chin and turned his dark eyes on me.

- You've been sick.

And it was a statement. I began to tremble. Rahula was very intelligent, when young he had been the doctor's apprentice so I wasn't surprised when I heard him saying:

- You've been pregnant several times, but you've got rid of all your bastards.

It would have been stupid to assume I could deceive him. It was, finally, my death sentence, so that my eyes filled with tears and the old man's face faded into a fuzzy cloud.

Then I saw the look of sadness on his face.

- It has been my son, right?

What could I say? I remained silent.

- Oh, damn! How blind I was!

He said no more. I finished serving dinner and I turned to my cot, where I spent the night shaking. Women like me were stoned to death, or doused with petrol and set alight, or poured acid to burn, as they did with my sister. And at night I cursed the gods for having made me a woman and unable to defend myself against this accusation, because then I see the truth. If there was any fault, that was Taresh's, not mine. And although he still attracted me.

I never expected what happened the next morning. I was washing clothes when the door opened and Taresh entered the small shed. I went back, startled, because I thought he came to attack me again, but to my surprise Rahula came behind him. And wielding a wooden stick.

Before I could say anything, Rahula grabbed his son's shoulder and said:

- Taresh, is this the woman whom you're been raping for moths?

The boy closed his eyes and murmured:

- What nonsenses you tell, Father.

Almost instantly, Rahula raised his stick and hit Taresh with all his might. He caught him off guard and fell on his knees uttering a cry of pain. He turned towards him.

- Tell me, son - went again, calmly, Rahula - is this the woman you left pregnant multiple times?

- Father, I assure you...

He struck him again. This time Taresh screamed and clutched his face. The blow had cut his eyebrow and was bleeding profusely.

- My son - Rahula didn't lose the serenity in his voice - are you sure this is not the woman you fucked for some time?

Letting out a sigh, Taresh said:

- Yes, she is, but, father...

- Well, guess what, my son? - Rahula said softly. - _This woman is my wife_.

He raised his wand again and began to unload repeated blows on the body of his son, strong and well placed, as he screamed _"Father!"_ again and again and tried to protect himself, as it's not permissible for a son to beat his father.

I was like stitched to the ground, motionless and speechless, full of horror at what I saw. Rahula beat him mercilessly, and the soil gradually became covered with blood and bits of flesh scalped with every blow. His face and arms were red with blood. His cries became weaker and he finally collapsed on one side, powerless to defend himself.

- You're going to kill him, husband! - I exclaimed in horror.

Rahula stopped. The rod was all red and had pieces of skin and hair attached on it. He took a deep breath and threw it aside. But he was still not over. He leaned toward his son and lifted his head grabbing him by the ear, which had fallen almost due to the blows, and twisted it making him scream in pain.

- The gods say, my son - he whispered softly - you shall neither covet another's wife, nor the virgin, you shall not dishonor your father or your mother, you shall not covet the wife of your father!

He let go him and his face smashed with a snap on the floor. With this blow he lost consciousness. Then Rahula went away calmly as if nothing had happened.

It took me a moment to realize that my old husband was not going to make me die, rather the contrary, he had done justice.

(…)

From that moment, Taresh didn't bother me again. I felt guilty for having expected so little from Rahula, but that was what I was accustomed to see among the people of our town. He continued to live together in peace with me and didn't talk about the unfortunate incident again.

But that peace wouldn't last long. When I was 14, my husband got sick of death. At the end of the day, he was very old. He spent a long time dying, and I remained on his bedside, assisting him in what he could to ease his pain. I felt indebted to him, but I never found the way to express it, except for my continued attention.

Rahula's life finally went out one night. May the gods lead him to a fortunate reincarnation, he was a righteous man and my heart is proud of remembering him. However, as you'll probably know, _bahanji_, I was again terrified (and this is how women in India live in constant terror) for now, if widowed, my fate was at the mercy of what my husband's family decided .

They could let me live, which would make me a vague shadow, rejected by all and condemned to exile, as they did with my my sister, or they could burn me alive on my husband's pyre, as it happens with all righteous wives. Moreover, if it was myself who cast on the fire willingly, I would win not only honor for my husband's family, but for my own family and for myself.

Your butler told me, _bahanji_, that the practice of the funeral ritual, the _suttee,_ was banned many centuries ago by the British when they were in India. The reality is that wives are still being burned.

So the family of my husband decided to burn me.

And I had survived to so many things to end like this. I didn't care anything my honor, having been repeatedly dishonored, nor the honor of my family who had sold me like a piece of cattle, nor the Rahula's family's honor, who were ruthless and stone-hearted. So I did everything possible to survive, even survival without honor.

My despair led me to look at Taresh. I found him near the hut where he used to rape me. He was shocked to see me.

- Taresh Ramaswami! - I cried.

He turned his face and pretended not to see me, as a widow is the accumulation of all impurities and filth in our religion.

- You can't ignore me, damn lazy! - I cried again. You see, _bahanji_, I had lost all fear for him- I have a proposal to make!

He continued without looking at me, but I noticed he was listening.

- Your father is dead, and I'm intended to his pyre! - I continued - But I offer you the chance to marry me.

This time he could not ignore me. He turned and looked at me aghast, despite all the restrictions of the taboo.

- You're crazy! - he shouted - I will not marry an impure widow! The gods will curse me!

I tilted my head back and laughed out loud. The fascination for him had disappeared. I felt only a deep scorn.

- The gods have already cursed you, Taresh! You took the wife of your father and dishonored her! The only way to repair the stain you spread is marrying me and wiping the insult you made. I'm rich and I will give you children, as you can see, stupid!

It may seem, _bahanji_, I was offering myself to the fangs of the tiger, but it certainly was my only way of escaping the _suttee._ If he married me he'll purify my spot and I shall not die.

But he still hesitated, so I pointed him with a a finger, which should not be done among honest people, and shouted:

- If you reject me, Taresh Ramaswami, and you send me to the fire, I'll curse you before dying! Durga is the goddess who protects me and she shows no mercy to those who have harmed their beloved. And once cursed I'll reincarnate in an evil spirit that will haunt you every day of your life! I will make your member to become rot, your crops will die, your future wife will bebarren, your children will die of the plague, you...

- Enough! I agree!

I had won. You can't imagine how powerful I felt at that time. No more, I turned my back with all my contempt and walked away.

(...)

I heard the song soar through my deep widow's veil. Over the bonfire was burning the body of Rahula, my husband, and I watched him burn, apologizing for not having the honor to contribute to his funeral.

- You were a good husband. - I mumbled to him - And that will be more than I can expect from your son.

At that time, a daughter of my husband walked up to me and whispered, without looking at me:

- Will you cast into the fire to burn with your beloved, or we'll have to force you?

I turned and looked with an eye to Taresh, who advanced. As planned, he should announce that he would take me as a wife to honor the memory of his father, which would avoid to send me to the stake, but, oh horror!, what he did was grabbing me by the wrist and announce:

- I'll drive this widow for the flames to consume her along with her lover.

- So be it! - answered all satisfied.

It would have been honorable to bow my head and let myself be dragged into the flames, but instead I let out a horrible scream and I twisted so tightly that Taresh let me go. That was enough for me to run down the pyre's platform. I saw hundreds of hands that wanted to catch me, but I tore my veil and shouted:

- Go back! I curse you! Whoever touches my body will be unclean!

My people are very superstitious and that was enough for many to step back, disgusted and horrified by being the target of a widow's filth . I passed between them like a shot and headed towards the first place that my eyes have seen: the jungle.

- Radha! - I heard him howling behind me.

Taresh's hands grabbed me and I felt her arms surrounding my neck and waist. I started kicking like crazy (fighting for my life!), and spat and bit all I could. At one point I could turn around, I dug my nails into his face and tore his skin, shouting:

- I curse you, traitor! You'll die of slow and painful death, may Durga give you no rest, may She reserves to you the most atrocious of reincarnations!

He winced when he heard me and I sank my teeth in his hand. He let me go and slipped. My _sari_ broke because of his hand pulls and snags with vegetation. I heard voices in the distance. They came after me. If I didn't manage to escape, they will burn me at the stake.

A hand grabbed my ankle. I stumbled and fell. To writhe, I saw his face contorted with hate, I kicked him with all my might. I felt the bone crack and a few drops of blood spattered my ankle. He screamed in pain.

I rose. By not see him get up, I suddenly realized I was free. I ran fast into the jungle without looking back, and a last cry, a cry that I have never forgotten, rang in my ears:

- Radha! Come here, shameless!

(...)

And the rest of the tale, _bahanji_, is well known by you.


	43. Chapter 42: Storm Prelude

**Chapter****42:****Storm's****Prelude  
><strong>  
>- Shall we kill them all, boss?<br>Schäffer frowned. Despite the given orders, he was an intelligent man, and determined to act on what sensible.  
>- No. - he said - It would be a waste of time. Find the Lux Veritatis, but don't hurt him.<br>The soldier allowed himself to doubt.  
>- But... the doctor said...<br>- I am your most immediate superior, asshole! Better not forget it. Move!  
>He vanished. Schäffer watched the flames glowing on the walls. <em>A<em>_madwoman_, he thought, _those__are__the__orders__of__a__madwoman.__I'll__take__care__of__this__situation__soon._

(…)

Nikos coughed repeatedly, and curled up next to Marcus. This one, with the old codex pressed against his chest, searched through the darkness.  
>- What's up ahead, <em>patér<em>?  
>- Two ways. One leading to the catacombs, the other to an outside staircase on the wall of the rock.<br>- Does it descend to the ground?  
>- Yes.<br>- This is our way!  
>Through the dancing shadows Marcus saw his partner shaking his head.<br>- I can't leave my brothers in the hands of these butchers, Healer.  
>- What will you do, go against all those men? There are young brothers who carry guns!<br>- I can't, Marcus, I shouldn't...  
>Without admitting other words, Marcus stood up and tugged at the abbot from his habit's sleeve:<br>- Guide me through this second path, for the Light's sake! The manuscript should not be missed!  
>They ran even though their forces already were missing. Every scream, hit or shot that came from the higher levels pierced the bowels of the abbot.<br>Finally they noticed a stream of cold air. The starry sky opened before them. They were in a kind of balcony of stone and rock stairs winding down.  
>- Here we parted, brother Healer. - Nikos gasped - God keep you and the Light will be propitious.<br>- You can't stay here! - shouted Marcus - Come with me, all is lost here!  
>The abbot was about to reply, but suddenly fell silent and looked with horror behind the Lux Veritatis. He turned and saw the rise of a shadow of the stone wall.<br>- You! Damn!  
>Giselle advanced to them. She was still wearing with strict etiquette and her makeup was spotless. She was beautiful, but her eyes shone in an inhuman way.<br>- Don't move. - she ordered with a cold voice. Then she looked at the book held by Marcus - What's that?  
>Marcus made a feint to head for the stairs, but Giselle shouted Stop! and pulled out a gun. The small metal gun flashed in the night.<br>Nikos observed the woman with petrified eyes, who was pointing the Healer with the barrel of the gun.  
>- I won't be a prisoner of anyone again, Giselle - Marcus said calmly - and less of you.<br>- Your life is worth so little to me like all these monks' ones - she said dryly – I won't waste a single cell in you. Show me the book.  
>Suddenly, Nikos went between them, covering Marcus, and said:<br>- Your foolishness and of those who came before you, has already caused too much damage and pain to innocent people. Leave us alone and go away.  
>Giselle just frowned a little.<br>- Get out of my way, monk. I won't repeat it again.  
>- Leave us alo...<br>Shrugging, Giselle raised her gun and fired the abbot four times. The deafening noise drowned Marcus' cry of horror.  
>She had shot well. Four bullets spread across the chest. Dropping the codex, Marcus rushed to support Nikos' body at the time of his fall. Both ended up in the ground, the Healer's hands through the sticky, blood-soaked habit.<br>The wounds were mortal, and Nikos Kavafis, abbot of Meteora for a short and unhappy time, barely had time to run a reassuring smile to his partner before shudder and die. A thick line of blood slid down from the corner of his mouth to the ground.  
>Marcus looked up. Now the gun barrel was pointing to him.<br>- You're a monster, Giselle. - he said, trying to control the tremor in his voice.  
>- Hatred and pain create monsters, Healer. - she replied calmly.- Tell this to your friend, that murderer of your Order.<br>- You're crazy. You could be saved, Giselle, if you admit and abandon your war against us. You're walking into an abyss and only you can stop that.  
>- No one can save me. Nor tell me what to do. This has been my choice and you all are going to pay for it.<br>- Then death is your choice.  
>He got up, carefully deposited the body of the abbot on the ground, and returned to take the manuscript, before wiping his bloodstained hands on his clothes.<br>- I have no fear of death - said Giselle, without lowering the gun - I have nothing to lose.  
>- That's what you think. - Marcus showed to her the open book – Didn't you want to know what's this? You didn't need to kill the abbot Kavafis for it. It's an ancient manuscript with an extensive prophecy written by an ancient witch. The prophecy speaks about us and this moment.<br>The crimson lipsticked lips curled into a contemptuous smile.  
>- How much you like old and useless sheets, full of nonsense. I understand now how you behave so well with my dreaming daughter.<br>Marcus took a few steps away, extending the open book before her, and recited aloud:  
>"Flashpointed avenging sword<br>You're wielding, with trembling hand,  
>You who never knew the touch of a kiss,<br>Whose heart beats crazy  
>Locked between the spines of your distress,<br>Splashing blood around you.  
>Your offspring have to kill you,<br>Because you were born for love  
>But you can only breed hatred."<br>Giselle's laughter echoed through the emptiness of the abyss.  
>- What a fool! This verse may refer to anyone.<br>- It talks about you, Giselle! You're inside of something much larger and darker than any attempt to revenge you could ever devise. There are beings whose power you can't imagine that have placed you in a huge board with the rest of us all. Don't you understand? We are game pieces, inspired by hellish creatures! Each card with a name, each player with a destiny. It's foolish to think about revenge, your problems are much greater!  
>She shook her head, waving short locks of blond hair.<br>- Dotard, you should hear the crap you're saying. You look like an ignorant peasant of the Middle Ages, awaiting the Day of Judgment.  
>Marcus dropped the book.<br>- You're blind. This will be your undoing. You're digging your own grave.  
>- No, you've dug your own. I'm sick of your nonsense, stupid old man - she said, and lifted the gun again.<br>- You can't kill me. I am the Wise. I have a role in this plot, and hellish beings won't let you alter the course of their plans. So far we've come, but they won't let you go further. Everything has happened so far has been with their approval and consent, for nothing interfered with their plans. But now you can't kill me.  
>- Let's test it. - Giselle smiled, and pulled the trigger.<br>The bullet struck the old man's shoulder. The wound was not fatal, but the bullet pushed him over the stone balcony and jumped. He screamed as he fell. Giselle then approached, and after leaning, was dumbfounded.  
>Marcus remained suspended in the air, clutching the manuscript with his good arm. He floated, but was Bathsheba who was holding him by the waist, a gaunt Bathsheba, haggard and dressed in rags, whose locks of hair and clothes were flying in the evening breeze, making her look ghostly. She raised her sunk eyes to her mortal mother and looked at her with infinite sorrow.<br>- What a scene!- muttered the doctor - Karel would have enjoyed so much seeing his daughter, a Nephilim, saving the life of a Lux Veritatis!  
>- I haven't saved his life. - she answered in stride - What he said is true. He has a reserved role in the Mother's plans. And you too.<br>Bathsheba's long white fingers clung into Marcus' injured shoulder. Giselle knew that she was healing him. She felt rage.  
>- Is this the daughter I fathered? Is this broken tearful, whiny, pitiful wreck my daughter? Are you a compassionate beggar? Indeed Gertrude made you useless from head to toe!<br>She lowered her long lashes. Marcus stood motionless and silent in her arms.  
>- You're blind, mother. Everything he said is true. What is to come will finish with all that you know and love.<br>- What I love… - Giselle's voice trembled - What I loved was lost. They removed him from me. I have nothing to lose.  
>Her daughter's green eyes raised back to her.<br>- Youth, beauty, life. Things for which I didn't pay, but you do, mother. All this still can be missed.  
>- I don't want them anymore. I want revenge. And you should want it too! For this you were born!<br>She stopped abruptly, for through her daughter' dirty cheeks tears were sliding.  
>- Are you crying? Do you cry? You have no feelings for it!<br>- Despite the Holy Blood of the Mother, I'm still half-human. You gave birth to me for your vengeance and the Mother gave me blood for her. I can't be an instrument of both. I made my choice, mother. I repudiate you.  
>At that time, a shadow slid down the wall. Schäffer was silent and subtle, looking stunned the scene.<br>- Schäffer - Bathsheba looked at him - I know you've been listening it all secretly, since she killed the abbot. You know what's coming, and I hope for Giselle's own good that you'll give this more credit than she gives. You must believe what you hear, and if you really love her, remove her from her stupid revenge, because - she closed her eyes at that moment - of the plans of Mother no one can set her aside. Her fate is the same as each of us' one. Even mine.  
>She turned back to Giselle:<br>- This is the last time we met on neutral ground, Giselle. The next time you will believe in everything I said, since you'll be fighting for your life. May the Mother have mercy on you.  
>She rose slowly, taking Marcus with her, and soon disappeared in the sky, turning a deaf ear to Giselle's cries, whom Schäffer held to avoid her pounce on the brink.<p>

(…)

Yes, definitely something awful was happening to Wilbur's corpse. It had acquired the typical rigor mortis, but the skin had become strangely bruised and looked like huge worms sliding under it. It was unthinkable it had reached such a state of putrefaction in so little time... unless...  
>Kurtis bent over the lying body on the table, feeling an unpleasant premonition. Almost instantly, the corpse opened his eyes and looked at him. They had a whitish layer, similar to the Sybilla's blind eyes.<br>William let out a cry of horror at seeing his dead brother rising from the table and grabbing Kurtis' neck. The man struggled, but the creature had a huge force and clung to his throat, squeezing him with an inhumane aggression. Kurtis decided to jerk back, which dragged the corpse off the table, just hanging from his neck and falling to the ground like an empty sack.  
>He barely had time to suck a few deep breaths before that being threw back again on him in a relentless struggle, ready to strangle him alive. The Lux Veritatis hit it with suck blows and kicks, which would have crushed a living man, given his considerable strength, and actually he broke bones and tore pieces of flesh, but couldn't exhaust the unholy force that animated the corpse.<br>Through the red haze which clouded his eyes he saw Marie and Lara, who looked on terrified. He should tell them what to do. He pulled one of the monster's claws from his throat, pulling, incidentally, some strips of his own skin, and drew breath to shout a single word:  
>- Golem!<br>That was enough for Marie, who, despite never having seen a golem, know what to do in that case. She ran outside and took a piece of wood, set fire on the bonfire used for dinner and ran inside again.  
>Lara, who despite her lamentable state, couldn't overcome her nature as a woman of action, had tried to fend the creature from Kurtis twisting its neck horribly. The corpse's vertebrae were broken with a snap, but that didn't frightened the monster at all.<br>- Get out! - Marie yelled, holding the torch into the rotting leg of the golem. Lara did so, watching in horror as the dead skin crackled and set on fire.  
>There was a terrible risk that Kurtis also be burned, but when the flesh began to burn, suddenly the creature loosened its grip's pressure. Kurtis get it finished on a knee that busted its guts. It staggered back, wrapped in flames, and stumbled onto the floor.<br>Kurtis coughed while a thin trickle of blood stained his t-shirt's collar while William was screaming in horror, who had watched all with wide eyes and without intervening at all. Marie and Lara were beside Kurtis each one , without losing sight of the flaming lump; Radha and Maddalena arriving, embracing each other, when barely seconds had passed since the Indian girl had finished telling telling her ow story.  
>Finally, the being froze and became a charred mass. But it wasn't still over. Marie pulled a knife and leaning on the golem, she began to mutilate it while reciting aloud:<br>- Golem of Darkness, I cut your fingers so you can't return from the demon world to grab us. I cut your feet so you can't pursue us. I cut, at last, the tongue, so you can't pronounce curses against us. Return to the shadow from which you were born and left to rest in peace this body you stole .  
>Finally, reacted William and said:<br>- But what are you doing? You're desecrating the body of my brother!  
>- It was <em>not<em> your brother. - Kurtis mumbled, his voice broken as a result of the struggle - A vengeful spirit entered his body and drove away his soul, taking control of his anatomy. Hence, this one tried to rape Lara and has attacked me again. If we don't mutilate and cremate it, it will rise again as many times as it wish, to accomplish its task. This is what the Order calls golem.  
>- But what about my brother?<br>- Sorry, but he's dead. But at least you know now he wasn't killed by Lara. - Kurtis concluded, and too exhausted to speak more, he retired to his tent.  
>- He's wounded! - Maddalena said, noting his bleeding neck, and started to go after him, but she stopped at Lara's glance, who went behind him. The Italian woman blushed and chose to carry Radha to their tent.<p>

(…)

Lara cleaned the wound and then said:  
>- I feel better now. There's a logical explanation for what happened. But this new creature… the golem... Why would return from the dead only to rape a woman? I thought its mission was to kill.<br>Reluctantly, because I didn't want to talk, Kurtis said:  
>- The golem is not a demon in the crude sense of the word. The spirit that possesses that body belonged to a person who died and was sentenced... and takes the opportunity to take revenge on those who wronged him. Whoever it may be, it's the spirit of someone killed by you or me, Lara.<br>- I've killed a lot of people. - She shrugged. Then she realized that sounded too frivolous and corrected - I'm not proud of it, but it seems impossible to discern who might be. Considering that's not the first one trying to rape me, but… - that was hard to admit – yes, it's the first one who almost made it. I couldn't fight against him, was too strong.  
>- It was a recently dead, bloodthirsty. Those are the most easily manipulated by dark forces. - he shook his head - I'm exhausted Lara, and so you should rest.<br>It was the first night in a long time they didn't made love, but Lara didn't protested. At the end of the day, she looked terrible with her bruised face and he had almost been strangled. After a while she was asleep, hugging his back.  
>But he couldn't sleep. He couldn't. No matter how exhausted he was, how tired of that endless struggle, nor sleep nor tears came to lighten the weight of his eyelids and the pain on his body.<br>For the first time in the depths of his conscience, Kurtis Trent concluded that he had hit bottom. He couldn't go on like that, wandering from place to place, dragging his beloved ones to all kinds of hardship, suffering, injury and certain death. It was time to take a decision. A decision that would be taken only by him. He knew that Lara wouldn't approve, but she was no longer in a position to decide. He must do it for her, if she wanted to avoid further mishaps.  
>He sat up and looked at the sleeping woman by his side. She was strong and brave, and hard, very hard. But she was pregnant and it was absurd to make her continue in that relentless pursuit. Soon, her pregnancy would be too advanced and any effort or hardship would make her to suffer an abortion, and most likely die. She didn't want to accept it, but that was the way things were. It was time to make her safe.<br>He knew that perhaps he wasn't entitled to make plans for her. At the end of the day, he was neither her husband nor her betrothed, he wasn't nothing but the man who shared her bed at night. He could be called a lover, but that didn't give him any power over her. Instead, he was the father of her son, yes; he was responsible for that child since he had left her pregnant. And if she thought she could exclude him from that role, she was wrong.  
><em>I wish I could have given you something better than this<em>, he lamented. Since they were together, she had been hungry and cold, she had suffered terrible injuries at the hands of both unscrupulous people and infernal beings. He was cursed, he brought pain everywhere. _I warned you, Lara. Why didn't listen to me? You don't regret, but I do._  
>He loved her too much to make her continue with that. One way or another, it was the end. He got up slowly. He dressed with all the secrecy inherited from his two roots, both the Order and the Navajo people. He was thoroughly equipped, collecting all the weapons, his beautiful Churigai, everything which was his. Then he leave quietly. He would have liked to kiss her one last time, but that would have awakened her.<br>The next morning, no one could find him. He had disappeared.


	44. Chapter 43: Beginning and End

**Chapter 43: Beginning and end**

The gentle morning breeze stroked Marcus' beard. They were on top of the Mount Ararat, in Israel. He still pressed against his chest the beautiful manuscript. He turned to the thoughtful lady who had at his side.  
>- I see your suffering, Bathsheba. You're undeniably human, despite your appearance and essence.<br>She didn't answer. She was staring into the plain. Her rags fluttered in the breeze. Her glassy eyes shone as if with a fever.  
>- Has it started, right? - asked the Healer.<br>She nodded slightly.  
>- Yes, it has begun. The Mother is waking up.<br>- So we have not much time left. We must take the Bitter Path. Where's the entrance to the Voragine?  
>- In the Sybilla's lair. - she replied calmly - You'll be surprised to know that she's still alive, old Wise. She has lived occupying one body after another in recent millennia. But her work comes to an end. The Great Goddess claims her back to Her womb. Open up the door will be her last mission in the mortal world.<br>Marcus nodded, serene. Finally all was becoming clear.  
>- We must go there. Why do you hesitate, Blessed Daughter?<br>Bathsheba's lips trembled slightly.  
>- You shouldn't call me that. I'm your ancient enemy, the plague that wiped out your Order.<br>- _They _wiped out my people. Not you. Bathsheba... being half Nephilim doesn't make you my enemy. They became our enemies because we damaged them and they damaged us. You're different, you know. You're more human than all of them.  
>Her green eyes, surrounded by bruised dark circles, turned toward him.<br>- Stop always repeating the same refrain. I have the Blood of the Mother.  
>- Blood can't change who you are. You've recognized that yourself. Bathsheba, in your hand is to stop what is coming.<br>- It's useless. I made my choice.  
>- You haven't chosen anything. You know She manipulates you. Choose for yourself, there's still time, you're still pure. Choose the right side.<br>- I've chosen. - she answered coldly, and turning away, she parted.

(...)

In the silence of her cave, the Sybilla felt the bowels of the earth vibrating.  
>At first it was a rumor soft, almost imperceptible. Then it increased. It ended up being an intense vibration and tingling in the soles of her feet. Mortals couldn't yet perceive, but the Dark Lady woke slowly.<br>- It's the signal we expect. - she murmured softly. - For centuries I expected this, O Mother. Finally it's my time.  
>She got up. At the bottom of the cave was a tiny pond of groundwater. She went and washed, which she did only rarely, for ritual purification. She erased from his childish body all the paintings of red ocher and black who had set, leaving only the tangle of scarifications made by knives. She left the fresh, clean water and took a flint knife, with which she shaved her shaggy hair, snatching from it the parasites that feed on it, all the trimmings of the hair, leaving the head smooth and shiny.<br>She gathered her few clothes and hair and burned them. Then she spent hours getting everything ready for her farewell. From several millennia she had been treading the earth and at last it was time to leave. If she had remembered how to smile, she would have smiled. Finally she was about to return to the Mother.  
>She took her seat again, brooding, watching the dying embers of the fire. Almost instantly her eyes caught the new presence in her cave.<br>- Welcome, I was expecting you. - she muttered.  
>He lifted the curtain and watched at her with a frown.<br>- Don't be surprised because now I welcome you and before you weren't welcomed. I had to act according to higher purposes than just a whim. Not be surprised, also, becase I've noticed your presence, despite you're very quiet. Your aura is so bright that you shine like a torch in the darkness.  
>- I thought you were blind. - said the man crossing his arms over his chest.<br>- I'm blind to earthly things. But I see everything else, souls, hearts, time, destination. I waited for you. It's time.  
>Kurtis, standing before her with his legs apart, looked at her with suspicion. He had come to her for answers, as anyone else could answer.<br>- Oh, you'll have your answers. - she replied calmly - Although there's so little time.  
>- I want to finish with this. - he said bluntly - I've spent my whole life running and fighting something I can't escape from. You can tell your masters that I'm ready to end with this soon.<br>She looked up, scanning the room with her white eyes. She held a steaming bowl in her hands. Had she drunk from it? Suddenly, her voice became hoarse and found like another being speaking through her mouth.  
>- You're the last of the Lux Veritatis. The Wise doesn't represent a threat to us, but you do. Your life was requested from the moment you were born. What you never knew is that escaping from us and the Order had always eased our way. You weaken them, since they never had your powerful collaboration and by escaping you extended your life, giving us the satisfaction of chasing you. Now you offer the most valuable thing you have, your own life, hoping that we ignore those whom you love.<br>The cracked voice broke for a moment. Kurtis had not moved, staring inscrutable to the prophetess.  
>- But you will be pleased if that suits our plans. All those included in our servant the Sybilla's prophecy must follow their destiny no matter what you desire. <em>Although<em>_two__will__go__to__shed__their__blood__at__the__foot__of__the__Great__Mother,__it__will__be__seven__transiting__the__Bitter__Path:__the__Warrior__and__the__Amazonian,__the__Impure__and__the__Innocent,__the__Wise__and__the__Angel,__and__also__the__Hidden.__This__has__told__the__Voice__in__the__Darkness:__among__the__two__who__shed__their__blood,__only__one__could__be__redeemed,__and__he'll__redeemed__by__the__will__of__the__Goddess.__But__woe__to__them__if__they__don't__satisfy__the__Ineffable:__none__of__them__will__again__see__the__light__of__mortals._  
>Upon hearing the prophecy recited again, Kurtis was convinced that, although he already suspected, that was the Voice who was speaking through the Sybilla's mouth.<br>- If I give my life – he demanded – I ask clemency for the Amazonian. One life for another.  
>- It will be if She pleases. - articulated the hoarse, inhuman voice - Don't think you came here just for yourself. All who are bound by this prophecy have acted in a way that would suit our plans. Every step you have taken from the day you were born has led you here, Kurtis Trent. Both you and the others.<br>He nodded his head with a blow dry.  
>- I'm ready. - he said stoically.<br>Without further ado, the Sybilla handed the steaming bowl to him. Kurtis doubt only a moment, then, adjusting his load on his back and securing weapons, approached, took the horn and drank it down in one gulp.  
>- I, Sybilla Satanica, the Servant of the Dark, I open for you the doors of the Voragine. - said the priestess, now with her human voice - What you left behind you won't recover. Who goes in never comes out as the same. Who gives and never step back.<br>The figure of Kurtis began to blur. He looked, dazed, as his fingers, his arms, his whole body crumbled into nothingness like mist, and eventually was absorbed by the dark, without leaving the slightest trace of his presence.

(...)

No! It's not possible!  
>Lara faced, furious, all the sad faces watching her.<br>- It's true. - said Marie, sorrowful - He's gone. See it for yourself: there's no one of his possessions left, he has taken all his things with him.  
>- He wouldn't left like this, without consulting me - Lara fuss made of pure disorder – He can't make decisions without consulting me!<br>_Why not?_, said a little insidious voice in her head, _Who do you think you are? His mother? Look how she has no more power over him than you! Perhaps do you thought he was a lap dog that could be controlled all the time?_  
>- He wouldn't do that - she mumbled, dazed – Going like this, thereby letting me... it ... as he once did... he promised not to do it again!- she broke out again, furious, not caring that everyone will be looking distressed at her.<br>- He did that to protect you then, Lara, and he has done it again. - Marie calmly reasoned – Understand this, please. I also suffer for him, Lara.  
>She turned, furious, and went to her tent.<br>- Where are you going?  
>- What <em>nobody<em> understands is that both are involved in this!- yelled the British woman – Both of us, not him alone! He needs my help!  
>Marie followed her at full speed.<br>- What are you thinking about? - she looked stunned how she picked up her things, and screamed – No! What are you doing? You won't mean to follow him!  
>- I know where he has gone- she gasped – He has gone to the Sybilla. What I already suspected... she could help... he has gone to Hell!<br>The Navajo woman took four strides and grabbed Lara's elbow.  
>- <em>Enough!<em> - she cried - You're almost four months pregnant! You can't do anything for him. You have to think now about your son, his safety, which is yours also!  
>Lara tried to pull away, but Marie, despite her age, was still very strong and she dug her nails hard.<br>- Do you think you're being smart, girl? You're being stupid!  
>- I'll go with him.<br>- You'll lose your son too. And you will die.  
>- I owe allegiance to him. We're involved both in this.<br>Maddalena listened with her head down. Then made a silent question.  
><em>He's there where she says?<em>  
>She trembled awaiting a response from the Voice.<br>_Yes, my Giulia. He's there._  
>The redhead gasped and turned away.<br>_Is there any hope for him?_  
><em>Only if anyone gives his life for him, but he has chosen to give it for her, who will soon follow him, wether if the Navajo woman likes it or not.<br>Am I included in the prophecy?_ Maddalena shook again.  
><em>Yes, Giulia. You're in it. Soon you will meet the others. But fear not, I'll protect you.<br>The others?  
>Yes, Giulia. Marcus the Wise, Giselle the Angel, Lara the Amazonian and Kurtis the Warrior.<br>Who am I? The Impure, the Innocent, the Hidden One?  
>You must be told that only by the Wise. So it has to be.<em>

(...)

Are you ready?  
>- I am ready.<br>The Sybil handed the bowl to Marcus. He bowed to the prophetess, took it, but before drinking he said:  
>- I should return the manuscript, Herophilis.<br>The girl's reincarnated shoulders trembled.  
>- How did you call me?<br>- Herophilis. So it was your name when you were a beautiful girl from the fifth century. You were born in Athens, and that's the name your mother gave to you. Then you went to serve as priestess to the virginal Hestia, but it was another Goddess, more powerful and terrible, who chose you. She destroyed your sight, blinding your eyes to open them to Her Darkness. You became the most powerful prophetess of the Mediterranean, and then you were the most feared Sybilla throughout the Empire. The Roman emperors came to consult you, and tremble at thy presence. They called you Erithrean Sybil, because you lived in that area, but you served a darker being than the prophetic Apollo.  
>The sterile eyes of the prophetess had filled with tears, now streaming down her cheeks covered with scars, remembering what had so long forgotten.<br>- Herophilis... - she muttered – Herophilis... Erithrean Sybil... I was so beautiful that even the Caesar kissed my feet...  
>She blinked and lifted her chin.<br>- Herophilis has lived her last reincarnation. Stay with the manuscript, as it was written for you, Wise. Now drink the contents of the bowl.  
>Marcus did it, peacefully, serene. And immediately his figure vanished into thin air, while the Sybilla spoke the ritual words to accompany him to that world. Then she took the bowl and looked at Bathsheba, who had watched all the scene silently.<br>- You've done well, Blessed Daughter. There are still five left.  
>- The Amazonian, as it has done the Warrior, will come on her own. The Angel will be brought by another. I will bring the Innocent and the Impure.<br>- What about the Hidden One?  
>Bathsheba sighed.<br>- That one will also come on his own.

(...)

Schäffer smoked slowly, carefully, that Havana cigar he had reserved for months just in case of a special occasion. Apparently it will never be presented, so why to wait longer. When he finished he threw the remains and also threw down the jeep's hood in which he had been sitting. He gave a deep sigh and went to the trunk. He opened it and found the load he was carrying, so precious to him.  
>- I hope you forgive me for this. - he said - But you left me no choice.<br>Giselle gave him a furious glance. She has her hands and feet tied and gagged. It had been useless to speak her calmly, shout her, shake her. It had been all useless except kidnapping her like that and submit her by force. As promised, Schäffer had taken control of the situation, expelling his men without further notice and taking Giselle, who had howled, kicked, bitten and spat, once she was preventively disarmed.  
>Now they were on Israel's coast, and he had decided to go inland. That's what Bathsheba had told him to do. But he didn't it because she had told him to do. In fact, nothing of that has been done following orders from anyone, but from his own. He wanted to know what was really hiding behind all that, provided that didn't involve risk to Giselle's life or his own.<br>He didn't know the danger was real and so close.  
>- You're a perfect idiot. - he said, flatly – Sorry, I can't understand you. If I were you, I'd forgot all that and got a good life. We could go, you and I, anywhere, since I can take care of you. Yes, we could start a new life.<br>A sarcastic smile seemed to guess through Giselle's gag.  
>- Yes, I know you despise my proposals. You're only able to think of your fucking Karel, who is dead and even if he were alive, he never would come to save you. But I would do, Giselle. I would take care for you even though I am but a subordinate worm for you. Bathsheba is dangerous and I want to find out what she's about to do, and I'm not as skeptical of her words as you are.<br>He closed the trunk and took the wheel. There was still a long way to Syria.

(...)

- _Questo mundo mio amore... dove ste mio Dio..._  
>Humming to avoid being alone in the midst of that darkness, Maddalena walked shakily through the cave, driving her nails into the wall. She trembled with all members of her body, but she was unwilling to go back.<br>The cave was dark and cold. The Sybilla had turned off all lights except the embers of her fire. Terrified, Maddalena's voice rose again...  
>- <em>Ti amo, ti amo, stella bella mea...<em>  
>- <em>Ti<em>_amo__bella,__inanitas,__stella,__ti__amo__vanitas_... - said another voice from the darkness.  
>Maddalena contracted.<br>- Don't fear me. - the dark voice said, hoarsely. - You came on your own feet and this was unexpected. Welcome.  
>The small figure held out the bowl. She could not see into the blackness. She took it with trembling hands.<br>- Will I be with him?  
>- If you move fast, you''ll be with him.<br>- The place where I go... is Hell?  
>- So you call it, yes.<br>She closed his eyes, squeezing hard.  
>- Will I suffer?<br>- Horribly. But fear not, all your whole life you've been preparing for this. You and all the rest.  
>- The Voice promised me he would be mine.<br>- The Voice doesn't promise in vain. She's the mouth of the Goddess. Save him and he'll be yours so that nobody can snatch him from you.  
>- Not even <em>her?<em>  
>- Not even her.<br>Maddalena drank the bowl of a drink, and drifted.

(...)

- Lara, I beg you... it's your child. Your only son. And my grandson!  
>She could not ignore her, but tried to do so as she finished preparing her load. Food, equipment and weapons, she had it all. She carried it at her back, before Marie and Radha's astonished and desolated gaze. Maddalena had long since she was seen anywhere.<br>- The Sybilla has opened the Voragine's doors. - said Lara - That's where I go. Nor I have to be anywhere else. Forgive me, Marie.  
>The woman looked down at her side when she followed Lara until the temple's columns.<br>- Stay and take care of Marie, Radha. See you then.  
>The girl said nothing. With a silence full of eloquence, she raised her hand in farewell.<br>At the edge of the well, she saw Marie coming running.  
>- No one has returned alive from there, Lara... because no one has ever been there. I want you to know that meeting you made me happy, that you made my son happy and... we would have been happier, both us, if you have wanted to preserve your son's life.<br>Lara looked at her solemnly.  
>- I'm also happy to having meet you. You're the kind of woman I admire, and whom all should look like. Take care of Radha.<br>And slowly she descended the stairs without looking back.

(...)

Apparently, Maddalena had anticipated to the events, she had arrived without being called. This was unexpected. It must have been _she_ who lead her to the Sybilla's presence.  
>It seemed a fact of no importance, but that greatly disturbed Bathsheba. She was accustomed to have everything planned, to see things long before they happened, to discuss the future of others as is it were present. And that change in her outlook caused make her feel upset only because, beyond the border between the Voragine and the mortal world, her vision faded.<br>Bathsheba couldn't see what had become of those who had crossed the border. What was worse, she knew that once she would cross, she'll lost her own vision. She wouldn't be able to see beyond time and space, like a blind mortal, while her arch enemy would be allowed to keep his farsee skills.  
>Lilith wanted things like that. It was an injustice, but as the Dark Queen had said to her, she wouldn't need her vision. Bathsheba was sure that was part of the ordeal that awaited her. Moreover, her enemy, as the Goddess had promised to her, would be unbalanced with a great physical loss, so she had no right to protest.<br>But seeing a mere mortal anticipating to her plans frustrated her.  
>- It's simple. - she said aloud, turning her parched face to Syria's hot desert wind - Maddalena is the piece that dances in the middle of Your board, as You made me to others will follow their instincts, they won't disobey to their essence, but she's changeable and unpredictable. I must be careful with her.<br>She distracted by the sound of a motor vehicle. Ah, there they were. At least there would be no more unexpected events.  
>The SUV parked in front of her. From it descended the tall, burly man who had served her during those two years, and who made her a dry and reverent salutation.<br>- Lady – he said, looking at her, unable to hide his shame about the unfortunate aspect of Bathsheba, dirty, ragged and impaired. Unconsciously, his eyes ran away from the areas of bare skin discovered by her rags.  
>He went to the trunk, opened it and took a lump, which he placed at the foot of the Nephilim. Giselle retreated to sit and cast a look of fury at her captors.<br>- I see you haven't understood anything of what I told you, Giselle. - murmured Bathsheba. Turning to Schäffer, she said - You are a faithful servant, and you've proven to be smarter than your predecessors.  
>- I don't see any intelligence in what I'm doing, Lady. - said the other in a bad mood - I seem to be delivering a victim for a sacrifice.<br>- That may be, Schäffer. That may be.  
>The mercenary's glance darkened.<br>- I haven't brought her here to see her killed, Lady. I owe you loyalty, but I also owed it to her before you. I can't let you hurt her.  
>- Of course not. You've brought her here because you're smart and you know that even if you hid her in the deepest hole and forgotten of the earth I'd found her and take her to her destination. You have done this wisely, and that fact should be rewarded. I release you from all your obligations to me and Giselle. You're free to go wherever you want, we won't need your services.<br>Schäffer inspired deeply.  
>- You can release me from my loyalty to you, Lady, but only Giselle can break me free from my allegiance to wht you intend is to kill her, I'm afraid I can not allow it.<br>And then he pull out his gun and aimed directly to Bathsheba's face as he stood between her and Giselle, who, stunned and silent in her gag, was still watching the scene.  
>Bathsheba did not move an inch.<br>- Follow your common sense, Schäffer. You know I can defeat you, and I can kill you too. But I wouldn't like to do so as you have proven to be faithful and competent. Even if all the military forces of the human armies fought for her, they wouldn't achieve to free Giselle from the fate prescribed for her before she was born. You have done well, don't spoil your merit.  
>The gun trembled in the mercenary's hand.<br>- You'll kill her ...  
>- No, my friend. I never said that. What will be done. I can't see what will happen, but it will happen as was written centuries ago. You know there's no other way.<br>Slowly, the man lowered the gun.  
>- If she survives, I want her to be returned to me.<br>- It's sad. She loves you no more than she was loved by my father. Would you suffer the same fate, her own madness?  
>- She fell in love with a soulless being. I am as mortal as her. If she survives...<br>- If her destination is not to die, and I pass the test that awaits me, I swear by everything which is immortal that I, Bathsheba, I will return Giselle to you.  
>- In that case, I agree.<br>He turned away. The Nephilim smiled, admired for a sense she didn't expect in someone like him. Then she looked down on the handcuffed woman.  
>- You don't deserve his love. If I were him, I'll let the Voragine's demons to devour you, perfidious woman.<br>Giselle seemed to smile mockingly behind the gag. Bathsheba bowed to her and instantly a fuzzy aura wrapped them and took them out of sight of the mercenary.  
>Schäffer remained silent a moment. Then he murmured:<br>- I'll wait.

(...)

- Fascinating meeting.  
>It was the Sybilla who spoke, looking over Lara's shoulder. She already held in her hands the bowl with the ritual drink, when she turned, surprised to see, appearing out of nowhere, Bathsheba and Giselle at her feet, with hands and feet tied and gagged.<br>- My hour has come. - muttered the trembling prophetess, rising from her seat.  
>- Stop!- Lara shouted, holding the bowl with one hand and taking the gun with the other.<br>Bathsheba folded her arms, quiet and serene.  
>- Watch out, Amazonian. Don't spill the precious content of the bowl. You will share it with us two, since the Sybilla is not going to make more.<br>The blind prophetess seemed to look back to the Nephilim, murmuring:  
>- You don't need the potion to pass to the other world, Blessed Daughter.<br>- It's the Goddess' wish so be it.  
>- Let, then, Her will be done.<br>She advanced, trembling with emotion, towards Bathsheba, who picked her up gently, like a mother cradling her daughter. Suddenly, however, she threw back her head and sank her teeth into her throat, slowly sucking all her blood. Lara didn't move, impressed by a scene so delicate and cruel at a prophetess finally relaxed and went limp.  
>Bathsheba deposited the body of the girl on the floor muttering:<br>- Herophilis, I command your body not to be reincarnated again. Immortal prophetess, go to enjoy the promised rest with your Lord and His Wife. Go to the Darkness,and may it always protect you.  
>And she closed the corpse's eyes. Rising, she looked monstrous to Lara, for to all her dirt and untidiness were added those stains of blood that had been dialed from her mouth, down her chest to her groins. She looked like a vampire, but really it was a way to kill as any other.<br>It seemed incredible that a being like the blind prophetess, who had lived more than any other being on earth, was now dead and so suddenly. Someone who had died many times as a life expectancy takes to last; through the History's varying stages, but this time she would stay dead, this time her soul couldn't find no other flesh refuge t.  
>- You'll be happy. - Bathsheba heard Lara saying. - Everything is going without a hitch, right?<br>- Not everything. Not everything.  
>Lara laughed mockingly and lifting the bowl, exclaimed:<br>- Cheers!  
>And drank a drink. Bathsheba barely had time to pounce on the bowl and hold it before it hit the ground and broke when Lara vanished into thin air. The liquid splashed a little, but it didn't miss much.<br>- That damn bitch will regret her pride.  
>Bathsheba turned. It was Giselle who had spoken, for she had removed the gag, rubbing her mouth against her shoulder.<br>- We're all going to regret many things, Giselle. You first, perhaps.  
>The doctor twisted, stabbing her with an insidious glance.<br>- I must say that you've become a decent copy of your father, cold and manipulative. Perhaps that proud Englishwoman is right, we all are now where you want and when you want, and now you're sending us God knows where.  
>- You talk as if you weren't cold and manipulative. But I've wasted enough time. The fate awaits us.<br>She leaned over and grabbed her mother by the neck. Giselle fought and tried to bite her, but she also realized, shocked, that the delicate hand of her daughter had become strong as a steel claw so she could not resist. She felt the rough edge of the bowl on the lips and then a burning liquid running down her throat. She suddenly felt light, volatile, her vision cleared and knew nothing more.


	45. Chapter 44: The Bitter Path

**Chapter 44: The Bitter Path**

Kurtis crouched behind the rock, while reviewing the content of his last ammo clip. He scanned the horizon, but the damn beast seemed to have disappeared. However, he didn't relax. He was too experienced to fail.  
>He didn't know how long he had been in that place. It wasn't how he imagined the Voragine, but in any case, Kurtis had always been a man of little imagination. He only knew that the time he had spent there (days? weeks? months? Impossible to specify) he had lived in a constant struggle for survival, a struggle that (he had that bad feeling) he had begun to lose.<br>The landscape he had before him was a barren extension, from which an end could not be seen, formed by dunes, dry soil and rocks. Nothing grew there and the sky above the place (if it could be called so) was like a carpet strewn with leaden storm clouds which neither move nor poured any rain. By day, he was living in twilight; and by night, in the blackest darkness. There was no light, nothing moved, and the only things there were those who put their efforts to kill him.  
>He loaded the gun and turned to scan again the desolate landscape. He had little expectation of survival. It was long since he had run out of provisions, so he had nothing to eat or drink. He was eating flesh and drinking blood of his enemies. Only he had a clip for his gun, since he had left behind all his ammo consumed and so all other weapons. Fortunately, the Churigai would serve him until the end.<br>He had suffered numerous injuries, but he had nothing to heal them. All he had on was a tattered shirt and the remains of what had been a pair of pants, still subject to his thighs.  
>Probably he had never been worse and he had never been so certain of his impending death, but interestingly and for the first time, he felt at peace with himself. He had done the right thing. He would travel the Bitter Path, but Lara would be safe. He thought of his future son for a moment, but he jerked him away from his mind. He shouldn't think that he would never see him.<br>Then, his keen ear caught a gurgle. He rose violently and saw behind him a crouched manticore, watching him with its grim smile.  
>- How clever are you, bitch. - he snapped.<br>Letting out a loud shriek, the demon fell upon him, digging its claws into his unprotected chest. It tore the flesh but it didn't went far, as he rolled and pulled the beast off with a kick. It was absurd to try to empty the clip into it, there were just one thing really able to hurt it.  
>But the manticore was a clever beast and repeatedly dodged the Churigai's beam, while reluctant to attack, leading to the depletion of its rival. Kurtis had counted on that and pretended to be tired, uncovering himself for a moment. When the manticore launched itself to his throat, he grabbed its head and sliced it with a single blow.<br>He stood a moment, panting. His chest was covered in blood, but he didn't looked at his wounds. The priority was to take profit of the corpse. He dismembered it and then swallowed its raw meat, as he had no fire, and drank the blood.  
>How long could he hold on like that? At the moment that seemed to serve. So far the creatures that attacked him were overcoming with the degree of difficulty. Although he knew they would wait until he was really weak to send something worse.<br>At that time, only hatred could keep him up. He had wanted to be a normal man, but they had make him what he was. So, until they managed to kill him, he would ensure they would regret it.

(...)  
>Marcus wasn't far from him, but they wouldn't meet, at least for the moment. The old man had been sitting under a rock. Unlike Kurtis, he hadn't any means to defend himself and could have died right away, but nothing and no one came to attack him. As expected, the Wises's Bitter Path would take a very different aspect of the Warrior's Bitter Path.<br>Sighing, he reviewed once again the precious codex, but everything was already startlingly clear to him. He couldn't believe it, but he had interpreted every word. The revelations were terrible, but it made sense that his mouth remained sealed until the right time.  
>Sighing again, he wrapped himself in his mantle and looked around. There was nothing. The only sound was silence. The primeval empty silence.<p>

(...)

There was a lightning in the distance. But the rain never came.  
>Lara slowly opened her eyes. She was lying face up under a sky heavy with clouds. She sat up slowly, scanning the desert around her. It wasn't Syria, of course. She must be in the Voragine, which she accepted naturally.<br>A few steps away of her, there was Bathsheba. No one else. The Nephilim was kneeling on the ground, her head bowed and hands clasped in her lap. She seemed to be meditating.  
>Bathsheba had never been clearly hostile or aggressive towards them, but nevertheless Lara felt confused with that attitude of naive innocence, she would say of a slaughtered lamb, which she had recently adopted and didn't know whether to believe or distrust.<br>Lara's nature won. She distrusted.  
>- Hey! - she shouted, standing up.<br>Bathsheba's face turned slowly towards her. Her expression could have broken many hearts. But Lara's one was made of steel.  
>- You look like a martyr on the amphitheater way! - she snapped.<br>- That's what I am. - she said in so low voice that she barely heard her.  
>She looked at the explorer, upright at her side. She wore a wide shirt to hide her pregnancy, but her pants were long and tight and she had all her equipment. The eyes of the Englishwoman were impatient and distrustful.<br>- Where are we? And why you're here with me?  
>- We are somewhere in the Voragine, at the beginning of our Bitter Path. I'm with you because I must protect you and the creature you have in your belly, so you can arrive safely to the altar of sacrifice.<br>- How kind of you! - Lara said ironically - For a moment I felt almost tempted to say _thank you_. Where are the others? I guess you'll have each one in place.  
>Bathsheba wrung her hands in a gesture of concern, totally unlike her.<br>- I have no control over this situation. It's up to Her. The others are here too, following their own path. They may be at least four steps away from you, but won't see them, nor them will see you. You won't see any of them while traveling the Path.  
>- I should have imagined you'll plan something like that. Well, I'm not willing to waste time. Do what pleases you, but I won't worry the least about you.<br>She turned away and walked to an unspecified location. Bathsheba looked up and started to walk quietly behind her.  
>As for Lara, she had no intention of being sacrificed. She didn't know what to do yet, but she would not be sacrificed like a lamb. Not without fighting, anyway.<p>

(…)

At first, Giselle saw nothing. Since that, for her, was nothing. A desolate landscape made of sand and dust. She stood up, brushing the dust from her skirt. Then she found she was more or less well, and breathed a sigh of annoyance. For someone like her, who believed in science and common sense above all, this situation was ridiculous, and nevertheless she remained skeptical of what might happen. However, that didn't stifle a glimpse of a confused thinking... would be there where she would find Karel? It sounded stupid and childish, but nothing seemed to be in place.  
>She started walking, looking around in bewilderment. For once, she regretted Schäffer wasn't at her side. The burly German was able to stay calm in the midst of an earthquake, and nobody managed to warm his head. She, however, despaired at times.<br>- Damn bitch! - she exclaimed, out of herself – Bathsheba! Enough of this game! Get me out of here, _now!_  
>But only silence answered to her. Furious, she began to walk with more energy, but soon she had to stop and take off her shoes, because those sharp heels threatened to leave her buried in the malleable earth. Distressed, she went on a while , she couldn't calculate how longer, because there was no sun for orientation or any wind blowing, until she ripped her stockings and her feet began to be injured. Then she fell to the ground, defeated, but determined not to mourn.<br>- I conceived you at the wrong time - she growled to her daughter - I should have choked you on your crib!  
>Then she snorted. Exhausted, she lay back on the ground and remained a long time lost in her thoughts. She should have fallen asleep from exhaustion, but it was a restless sleep, full of tantalizing images.<br>When she awoke, the reality proved to be worse than her dreams.  
>It had darkened a bit, but everything was in place. Not a cloud had moved. But where once it was empty, since it had been a barren desert with nothing, it had suddenly been populated by figures.<br>They were people, human beings. Hundreds, thousands of them. Wherever she looked there were rows and rows of people who were lost in the horizon. They were stiff, silent, standing and staring at her, their faces completely expressionless.  
>Giselle realized, terrified, that she could recognize them. Most were dressed in a unmistakable gown: she had given it to them when they were brought by force to her center. She clearly distinguished the lovely girl who had died months ago when trying a treatment with her. She saw clearly the Italian student whose life had been cut with injections when Karel was still alive, shortly before receiving the order to take care of Lara Croft. It had been months, years, since the death of those people, and she had been forgotten them as their bodies were going to the sea, but now they were there and stared at her.<br>She began to tremble. Something told her that she should keep a cool head, to think rationally, to conclude that this was illusory, but those faces were horribly real, though no breeze ruffled their clothes or hairs.  
>The silence was deadly.<br>- What do you want? - Giselle cried, but she had no response.  
>She turned sharply to gauge how many people around her, but then a cry was drowned in her throat when seeing the two people who were closer, right behind her.<br>One was professor Vladimir Ivanoff. She recognized him because his head was crushed, as it was impossible to recognize his features. The skull had collapsed on one side and only one eye was staring at her through that bloody pulp.  
>And right beside him, there was the Turkish girl. But unlike the others, she seemed to glow slightly. Her hair moved and the white coat she wore in shook slightly.<br>- What do you want? - she muttered shakily – Go away!  
><em>Giselle.<em>  
>She winced. Selma had moved her lips, but the bloodless voice that had echoed in her ears didn't seem to come from them. She stared at her, stunned.<br>_Giselle..._  
>- What! - she shouted at the edge of hysteria.<br>_I'm talking to you, I, who am on the edge between life and death, on behalf of those who have no voice._  
>- What do you want from me? - she cried a third time.<br>_What you have always wanted. Revenge._  
>She took a couple of steps and tried to go away, but she was surrounded.<br>- Nonsense. - she muttered - You're dead. Dead, dead, dead! Go away and leave me alone.  
>Selma bowed her head slightly to one side.<br>_That's not_ _possible._  
>With a cry of rage, Giselle rushed at her, but her hands didn't touch but air. She crossed the ethereal figure of the Turkish girl without feeling absolutely nothing between the toes. However, she had launched against her so strongly that, through her, she stumbled and went to hit the first person behind her. And this one, despite being, apparently, someone who was dead, was frighteningly strong and real. Giselle screamed again, but now the other grabbed her neck and started squeezing her.<p>

(...)

Maddalena had never been so scared in her life.  
>She had been so blindly confident that after crossing the limb would be with Kurtis than finding herself alone in that inhospitable place make her panic. She looked around and when seeing nothing, she fell on the dry land and began to rock back and forth, moaning. This did not last long, because suddenly she heard her hated and eternal companion.<br>_Why are you crying, Giulia? Did not I give you what you most want?_  
>- He's not here. - she said.<br>_Oh, yes! Very close. But you can't see him._  
>- I want to see him.<br>_Very good. To me there's nothing impossible. But I warn you he won't see you, nor you will be able to interact with him, at least for now._  
>- I don't care. I want to know if he's OK.<br>It was to say that and seeing him on the horizon. With a leap she stood up and ran to him, but she stood at a distance, by a precaution that really she didn't need to take.  
>The status of Kurtis was regrettable though he seemed quite clear and confident. At that time he was kneeling on one knee on the floor and tearing the last shreds of what had been his shirt, which no longer covered his torso and could only hinder his movements. He quickly tore it into strips which used to wrap some wounds. He kept scanning around with a sharp glance, which ended up convincing Maddalena that he really couldn't see her.<br>- I can't understand why he has to suffer so much. - muttered aloud the girl – I can't see why you're so cruel with him.  
><em>It's the eternal war, Giulia. But it will come to an end soon. Very soon, yes.<em>  
>There was a roar in the distance. Kurtis rose rapidly, holding the Chirugai in his hand. She watched, horrified, how horrible, deformed beings, emerged from the sand and approached him. They sought to surround him, but the Lux Veritatis quickly went back, with a grim smile as he demanded them, provocatively waving the hand, to come to him.<br>Then Maddalena understood in her inside that her Bitter Path would be to witness his suffering: unable to speak to him, unable to provide him comfort or relief, unable to help him in any way.  
><em>Exactly, my dear Giulia.<em>

(…)

Lara looked around and retreated behind a rock. For a long time, she had felt something, but could not say what. Bathsheba, at her side, had the exasperating appearance of knowing what it was to come and when it would make an appearance, but the explorer was determined to not to beg information. She would let her with her mysteries.  
>She calmly loaded her guns, while Bathsheba scanned the horizon.<br>- Here they come. - she announced with indifference.  
>They were mild, dark shapes which moved with surprising speed. At first Lara didn't distinguished them well, but then she saw their stout, anthropoid forms, their heads crowned with twisted horns like those of rams. They had a strange lower extremities, such as ostrich, that allow them to run at an incredible speed.<br>- Incubi. - Bathsheba said again.  
>- And I thought these things only existed in medieval Bibles. - Lara said, since she neither in these circumstances was reluctant to make a joke.<br>The demons' growls were heard, mingled with cruel and cold laughters. They seemed to have fun with what awaited them.  
>- It's a hunt. - the Nephilim said once more.<br>- And we're their prey!  
>Lara climbed behind the rock and prepared her gun. She aimed with cold precision and the first shot struck one and wounded other. The first one burst into a black cloud, but to her horror, the blood left in the second wound generated another incubus who quickly joined the game.<br>- Shit! - said Lara.  
>There were eight in total. It was clear she couldn't fail.<br>- Their weak point is the brow. - said the beauty.  
>- I've already noticed that, Miss Perfect! - Lara exclaimed, she who hated being interrupted when aiming a target.<br>With perfect coldness she achieved to kill four before they reached them. Lara was not surprised to see that incubi didn't attack Bathsheba (in fact, they didn't addressed a glance towards her, even though they tried by all means not to brush against her) and gather around the rock, laughing derisively. The faces of those creatures could have challenged any painting by Hieronymus Bosch. Their sharp jaws were stretched to the sides of their faces, and surprisingly, they were blind, but they seemed perfectly able to sniff the woman. One of them threw a blow in Lara's direction, who was balancing on the sharp rock, and hit her in the thigh. She felt like a tremendous burning and warm blood sliding down the leg, but she didn't even stop to look at her wound and she didn't allow herself to groan of pain. The attack had put the incubus at her mercy and she killed him with one shot.  
>Suddenly, she felt a tug in the back and lost her balance. Letting out a scream, she fell back and landed among the tangle of incubi. Suddenly three pairs of claws were ready to break her skin. She didn't hesitate to take out her knife and attack them with it. The cries of those nasty things deafened her.<br>Through the corner of her eye she thought she saw Bathsheba climbing the rock. She looked like a fallen fairy in that broken dress. The Nephilim closed her eyes and formed an oval with two hands. Almost instantly her whole body began to glow with a wonderful blue light. The freshness she emitted reached her burning skin.  
>The jaws of an incubus sank into her shoulder. The pain was more than she could tolerate and uttering a cry, she stirred and stabbed him. She saw her blade penetrating in slow motion between the two white blooded cells that were the sightless eyes of the creature, and immediately they disintegrated into a black steam. She kicked angrily at the other two, which were practically pulling the flesh from her legs by bitting her, and taking advantage of they were engulfing some of her skin, she gave them two well-aimed blows of knife in their front. Instantly she had escaped from them.<br>She collapsed, sore, panting. Her legs were soaked with blood and full of bites. She noticed her own blood running down back from her shoulder. The pain was quite sharp. Although nothing was burning like the fury she felt inside.  
>- I should do the same to you, bitch! - she exclaimed.<br>Bathsheba glanced among her blue aura, and said:  
>- You ungrateful. Who has been protecting your child, if not me?<br>Stunned, Lara realized that at no time during the painful battle she had been aware that, in fact, _she was pregnant_, and could have had worse consequences. She gasped, looked at Bathsheba, and then she saw something floating, suspended on the oval formed by her hands, joined at the tips of her fingers.  
>It was the small image, similar to a hologram, of a tiny human embryo.<p> 


	46. Chapter 45: Endless Agony

**Chapter 45: Endless Agony**

_Day 22 in the Voragine._

_May the Light forgive me, but I'm sullying this ancient manuscript with an infamous pen and a clumsy, trembling handwriting, since those last blank pages, I suspect, are left by the sibyl Herophilis for me. Perhaps I, Marcus, the Wise, had to write this, like another part of those great evil plans that will devour us all._

_I say it's the twenty second day, and it seems laughable, given that it's difficult to perceive the passage of time here. Nothing changes in this vast expanse. But I'm able to perceive it, perhaps because again, that's what matters to someone. They have been slowly creeping, and here I am, at the end of my way, without having advanced to nowhere and with almost no food or drink. Anyway, I know I won't die until my task is not completed, whatever it was._

_Through subtle mists I perceive my other colleagues, who don't perceive me or are not able to perceive each other. I confess I'm finding myself maddening when witnessing brother Kurtis' slow agony, as it should be for poor Giulia. I wonder why this evil plan have thrown her into the midst of this grim scenario. But demons have always loved gratuitous suffering. In that, they're not very different from humans._

_Now, when finally the Warrior seems to be delivering the last remnants of his physical strength under the relentless onslaught of our ancestral enemies, I can't but admire Lara's strength. She's not been treated with more compassion. But her legs haven't trembled at any time, nor she feels pity for the uncertain future of her son. She has received more wounds than her body could fit and some are unbearable, but I haven't seen her mask of hardness broken at all. Perhaps she's the strongest of us all._

_What I can say about Bathsheba, who remains an impenetrable mystery to me? She looks like a ghost. I know she can see me, since she looks back at me while the others can't do so, but she always does so in silence. What goes through your mind, Blessed Daughter? You know I believe in your purity and your kindness, but if you don't fight against your nature, you won't be saved. No one will be saved._

_In the midst of this crazy series of empty hours, knowing that here time must crawl when it flies in the mortal world, a mysterious revelation has come to me in a terrible and certain way. I know why the Amazon and her unborn child must end at Lilith's altar. I dare not write it yet. I fear this abomination takes shape and strength when writing about it. I'm an old superstitious man and the idea of the aberration that awaits Lara bend me nauseous. And the very idea of Bathsheba consenting such thing crumbles my faith at times, because now I know, fully conscious and lucid, that even Joachim Karel, who was a being without feelings or scruples, would have never tolerated such an action. More than anything because of what this represents._

_Bathsheba must abandon this madness, she must rebel against what she's being prepared to comply with all gentleness, or humanity will be lost. It breaks my heart, which I still have despite all my years, when seeing this grotesque scene, but the good of mankind is worth the suffering of a righteous man like Kurtis. But if Bathsheba's plans are fulfilled, so much pain, so much endless agony, will have been for nothing._

(...)

_But... what are my eyes seeing? An unaware Lux Veritatis?_

At the sound of this mocking, cruel voice, Kurtis slightly opened his eyes. He was leaning on another steep rock, where he had dropped himself after his last fight. Of the bloody spoils he had done with the demons that had attacked him previously, there was nothing. Anyway, why to be surprised.

- You're wrong, Moloch. - he whispered, opening his lips, full of dried blood - I've seen you a while ago.

A dry, cracked laughter rang in his ears. The creature who had appeared before him was a being of nightmare, a terrible incubus. He was tall and built like a man, and his body was covered with scales. A white, red-eyeded snake coiled around his naked forms. The face of the devil was horrible, he had snake eyes and a mouth full of huge triangular teeth like saws, which were deformed into a hideous smile. The head, ovoid, was crowned with a series of twisted horns. A faint leathery wings completed the rest.

_Look at him. The indomitable Kurtis Trent. A living legend. Although I liked you better when you used to gut soldiers in the Gulf. You were the more polished killing machine of the whole damn Legion. It was so amusing watching at you. Since your brains have been softened because of that English whore, you're truly worthless._

- Well, Moloch. - Kurtis gurgled, spitting a clot of blood - You speak like a legionnaire.

_I had the opportunity to learn a lot from mortals. From you, specially. Admit it, you're just a murderer, but such a fun we've had with you. Oh, and such a fun we're going to have now..._

He left the sentence unfinished to release another monstrous smile. Kurtis made an insane grin. His body was limp, relaxed, his head cocked, as if his body couldn't react or as if that terrible presence wasn't able to intimidate him.

- You should be grateful to me, Moloch. The last time we met I almost let you without horns.

_That reminds me that we have a little unfinished business, Lux Veritatis._

- Right. You should kiss my ass, if I remember. Don't forget to thank me because now you're the first power in all fucking Hell.

Moloch laughed again.

_Right. You killed the old Karel. When finishing the Nephilim, the incubi inherited the kingdom of the Father. And I enjoy a new position. Very true. But still, I won't kiss your ass... I'd rather kiss your guts, when I'll rip them off._

- It's a shame. Because I don't think you can deal with her.

The hideous face of the incubus twisted into a look of hatred.

_That one who intends to be a hybrid Nephilim? The one who calls herself Bathsheba?_

- Beware, your Lady likes her. I think you, the incubi, will be sent to the seventh circle again. You'll have to go back to begging souls.

_Not if Moloch can prevent that._

- The only one who can stop her it's me.

_You are no longer necessary! You don't have the Periapt Shard. And we can use that damn old, the Healer, to finish her. For all I know, she has a stupid confidence in him._

- Poor, poor Moloch. So much raping nuns have softened your horns.

The incubus let out a deafening roar and hit Kurtis with his claw. He bent to one side, letting out a gasp of pain.

_You're just a wreck. Sooner or later you will run out of strength. You're nothing but mortals. Did I tell you how your father cried when he was crucified? It was pathetic._

- You can't hurt me with that. My father rests in peace.

Moloch leaned, grabbed Kurtis' hair and forced him to look at him. The devil's slavering jaws were just a few inches from his face.

_However, I know what's your weak point, Soldier of Light. And I'll tell you: that whore you impregnated is here with us. And we'll have so much fun with her. So much fun!_

He was still saying this when Kurtis' hand snapped him and there was a metallic click. The demon roared in pain and sat howling. The Chirugai's blade had hit him, destroying his right eye.

Kurtis jumped while Moloch was unprotected, wiping the mixture of black blood and fluids that flowed from the socket's eye. He glanced bitterly at the Lux Veritatis, who showed him provocatively his deadly weapon.

- You're such a bad liar, Moloch.

_You'd wish that, son of a bitch. You'd wish it was a lie._

- You're boring me.

_Let's have fun, then._

With a tremendous roar, he spread out his wings and rose, circling his opponent. Kurtis knew what to expect from this attack. He crouched on the floor, clutching the Chirugai, trying to ignore the throbbing pain of his wounds. He peered for a moment the ancient demon, who remained suspended, examining him carefully.

- I must admit I missed you. - Kurtis said, taking a little sand from the ground and rubbing his hands with it, before taking again the gun - The Hell wouldn't be the same without Moloch, right?

Releasing a cruel laugh, the incubus plummeted. Kurtis kept his position, and at the last moment he stretched the Chirugai ahead and opened it. The blow was violent enough to have him and his attacker rolling on the ground, but when Moloch rose again, he had a terrible gash in the scaled belly, and Kurtis was unharmed.

- I see you're such as presumptuous as before. - he shouted - You keep falling into the same traps.

Another laughter accompanied the further decline of the incubus. The strategy would not work again, so this time, he dodged the attack of his opponent and leapt back. Moloch laughed and went down again at high speed. He couldn't see so well with one eye and Kurtis took the opportunity to punch him in the face, despite he cut his knuckles with the demon's scaled skin, but had the virtue of unbalance him and send him to the ground amid a cloud of bulky powder.

Moloch had barely landed when he had over his opponent. He could have easily shaken off him, as he was twice as big and had a brutal force, but then he saw a few inches from his good eye the Chirugai's bloody blades. He hated that damn weapon with all his might. All hellish creatures had learned to fear and hate it. So he didn't move.

Despite his weakness, Kurtis wasn't willing to be kind with him. He grabbed Moloch by the horns and twisted his head viciously, hitting the blade to the face.

- Let's talk. - he hissed in his ear.

The demon chuckled.

_What do you want me to tell you? Your fate? But that would just ruin the excitement._

- If Lara is really here, show her to me.

_I can't do that._

- That's because you're a liar.

_Angels and demons don't lie, motherfucker._

Another twinge made crack his neck bones. He saw his own ophidian eyes reflected in the metal of the blade.

- The Lux Veritatis don't lie too, so hear this: I'm going to break your neck.

Then something unexpected happened: the white snake, which had been dormant during all the time, reacted suddenly and looked up. Kurtis was not expecting it. The reptile bit him on the neck and, with tremendous force, tore him away from the devil and threw him aside. Instantly he was sitting up again, but the sharp lash of Moloch's tail pierced his face and knocked him down again. His face broke into a hot, sticky wave of pain and for a moment he ceased to see anything because his eyes were full of blood.

Moloch's claw grabbed him by the neck and lifted him into the air with the same ease that someone would raise a child. The Chirugai hand slipped from his hand and fell with a crash to the ground. The incubus kept him caught for a moment, raised him above his head, and kept looking at him with cold satisfaction.

_Come on, do a favor to your friend Moloch. Beg for your life._

Even through the yarns of blood that slid down his face, the devil saw clearly a sarcastic grin in Kurtis' face. He tried to speak but his voice came out weak. Moloch loosened his grip to let him talk.

- I would ask you to do me the favor and kill me, but you have no balls for that.

With a roar, Moloch slammed him on the floor. The blow caught his left leg in a bad position and twisted his ankle.

_Killing you? The fun has only begun._

Kurtis believed that monumental beating was going to continue, but then the nightmare creature, with a sinister smile that promised future punishments, vanished into thin air.

(...)

Maddalena repeated herself a thousand times she was a coward. She had been curled up next to Kurtis, while he, half unconscious, was sleeping on the rock, stroking his face and hair even she knew he wasn't going to notice that. When that devil had appeared, however, she had no courage to face him. She had ran to hide behind a rock, listening, trembling at every blow, the terrible conversation and brutal attack, crying silently. Even the certainty that she wouldn't have been able to do anything for him, or intervene in his favor, set her free from her oppressive burden of guilt.

For a moment she thought that aberration that was tormenting Kurtis had looked towards her and smiled with satisfaction, as if he knew she was seeing and he enjoyed it, but she couldn't have assured that. When that horrible creature disappeared, she got ready to run again at his side, but there was nothing she could do. Kurtis simply dropped a curse between his teeth and wiped blood from his face. His left foot was twisted in a horrible position. He couldn't walk well.

She was still leaning over him when he suddenly disappeared from her sight. She cried and looked around. No sign of Kurtis, or rock, or traces of blood on the floor. She began to tremble.

_Someone wants to meet you, Giulia_, said the Voice.

A shadow took shape around her. She turned, surprised, and found Daniele Monteleone.

He was the last person she expected to see there. She stood open-mouthed, gazing at him. The absolute certainty that he was dead reached her before even perceiving his _rigor mortis_, the black and blue of his lips and his dead eyes, not to mention that great bullet hole in the center of the forehead. He was sitting in a chair, as he used to do in Italy, and turned in his hand an empty glass.

- Daniele! - she cried hoarsely.

The _capo_ looked up, empty, expressionless, and glanced at her for a long time. She trembled from head to toe. She took a few steps.

- Daniele ... who ... who ...?

_Lara Croft._

The familiar voice had sounded in her ears without those deceased lips moving an inch. With a gesture empty of expression, he brought the cup to his mouth and pretended to drink, but there was nothing to drink. Maddalena let out a sob.

- Oh, Daniele, I didn't know ... she... nobody said anything ... I thought you were still alive!

_I paid my debt, Maddalena. I came to say goodbye._

The ginger girl reached out and touched Monteleone's arm. She found him cold, hard and rigid. Her knees buckled and collapsed at his feet.

- Among all men I ever met, only you felt pity on me.- she muttered.

_Among all women I ever met, only you truly loved me. And yet I failed to you. Maddalena... carissima ... you were right when leaving me._

Tears streamed down her face, but she neither noted them. She buried her head in Monteleone's thigh. She noted a withered hand playing with her curls.

- Right? - she sobbed - It had been a big mistake. I left my safe and strong position by your side to throw myself after a man who doesn't care about me. I'm lost, Daniele, I don't know what I'm doing here. I just hope to die, now that I know you're dead.

She could not even feel resentment against Lara for killing him. She just felt a great emptiness and despair on her inside.

_I had at my hand the best woman in this world, and I treated her like a whore. A queen's life is what I should have given to you. I wasted my time on my reputation and my pride. Now I have nothing. Forgive me, Maddalena._

The woman's shoulders shook.

- I've been happy with you... forgive me, Daniele.

The _mafioso_'s rigid fingers took Maddalena's chin and lifted her face. She found herself looking at the face of a dead man.

_Do you know why are you here?_

- By leaving the man who could protect me, I chased another one I can't have.

_But even that you have done, you did it according to the plans of someone, Maddalena. A great sacrifice will be required of you._

- I don't care. If he doesn't love me and you no longer live, I have nothing to do now.

Monteleone was speechless. Trembling, Maddalena incorporated to meet his blue lips. She had barely begun to touch them when they seemed to speak again.

_You are the Innocent of the prophecy, Maddalena._

She stopped.

- I thought I would be the Impure. I'm a prostitute.

_Body's sins don't harm the soul. You know, cara mia. It's hatred, bitterness and blood what defile our souls._

- Bathsheba, Kurtis, Lara... even the child she carries in her womb, are a hundred times more innocent than I am. - her eyes welled with tears - Kurtis is suffering terribly, I can't stand it anymore.

_No more than you, Maddalena, no more than you. Everyone is paying for his own. You too, carissima, but you'll pay for nothing. I've already paid, so I'm leaving._

He was saying that, and began to vanish into thin air. She, terrified, tried to detain him, but her hands grasped only air.

- Daniele! No! No, please! Don't leave me alone! Take me with you!

But he vanished, swallowed by nothingness, and she was left alone, kneeling on the hard ground, facing the _vacuum_ with sobs.

_You really have loved me, my beauty!_

(...)

Giselle landed on her face for the umpteenth time. She stood panting, touching her lips dripping with blood. She looked back. The mob went ahead, unstoppable, following her. She didn't know how long she had been fleeing from them. They walked very slowly down, like the zombies they were, she thought angrily. It didn't matter. If she stopped, they will reach her sooner or later.

So she had spent days, weeks maybe. She had lost her shoes so long ago. On her legs just dangled some bloody remains of her stockings, full of cuts, bruises and abrasions after having fallen a thousand times. Her skirt was in tatters. The hair, disheveled and bloody, was shriveled to dust. In her life she had felt so dirty, miserable and angry.

- Go away, motherfuckers! - she screamed in a shrill and torn voice - Leave me alone!

Never in her life she had used such language, but she was out of herself. If they put a hand on her, they beat, slapped, trampled, tried to strangle her. She had her hair torn in strands. And although she had defended herself consciousness, nothing could hurt those things, because they were already dead.

Beside her she saw Selma's ethereal silhouette, who watched that with serene indifference. She extended a hand full of cuts, with broken nails, trying to grab her, but the Turkish girl was only a wisp of fog.

- Tell them to go! - she screamed rather than said.

Selma's eyes met those of her, impenetrable.

_I told you I can't stop them. They want revenge for the damage you did to them. And they will do so until being satisfied._

- But you don't do so! - she exploded.

_I'm not dead yet. And I wish to be so in order to join them and destroy you like you destroyed me._

Giselle screamed with a long, inhuman howl. The shadow of her pursuers was already projected on her. She rose and ran again, panting, breathless. She took a moment to look back, and that was her misfortune. She stumbled over a stone that seemed suspiciously placed there, and then she fell down and dislocated her knee.

Letting out a cry of pain, she held the joint. She began to crawl with her hands in despair, shattering the rest of her clothes. But she could not move faster.

Soon, thousands of cold hands fell back on her.

(...)

_- _How was my father like?

The question caught her off guard. She was bandaging a rustle of incubus in her thigh. She looked up, startled, and stared at Bathsheba, who sat near on the floor, her knees together and legs bent to one side with modesty.

- Are you trying to start a conversation with me?

Bathsheba grinned.

_- _And whom are you expected to talk to? Your baby?

Lara's mouth twitched.

- Probably he would say far more interesting things to me. - she muttered, squeezing hard the bandage - Concerning your father, all I have to say is that I wish he had bad repose.

- There is no repose. The Nephilim, like the rest of the immortals... vanish when being destroyed. Only mortals know other life, because they have soul. We don't.

- I had already noticed that. - she growled, wiping traces of blood with saliva, not wanting to waste water.

Bathsheba smiled weakly.

- I think he was different from me.

- Of course. He was a man.

Unaccustomed to Lara's sarcasm, the Nephilim raised her eyebrows. Until she saw her chuckling she didn't noticed she was mocking at her.

- No, really, he wasn't like you. He wasn't so... _beautiful_. - she practically spat the word – He was not trying to make friends all time. The victim does not sympathize with the executioner, so shut up and leave me alone.

She ignored him and added:

- My father wanted to have a child with you. If he chose you for that, it would have been because you must have strong merits. Nephilim felt repelled by mortals, as far as I know.

- The only wish of that perverted Karel was to humiliate me and take revenge on me because I had killed Eckhardt and his precious Sleeper.

- However, I would have preferred having you as a mother.

Lara threw her head back and laughed.

- Me too! - she hissed - I would have nailed a Periapt Shard in your throat at birth. And all my problems solved!

Far from being offended, Bathsheba smiled.

- I see. But life is not as simple as it seems, right?

But Lara did not really like talking. She leaned on a rock - was there before? - and closed her eyes, ready to rest for at least a while, without giving a single look to her unwanted companion.

Bathsheba watched her silence. Now she had dropped her head on her shoulder and a lock of brown, bloodstained hair, covered half of her face. She was bruised and slightly wounded by the continuous attacks of the Voragine's creatures, but this didn't seem to bring down her strength. Of course, she didn't know about what now tormented Bathsheba, a heavier burden than that baby which was not to be born.

Basically, she envied mortals. She had envied them since she met Lara and Kurtis. She never would tell anyone, but she, hidden in states and dimensions to which only an immortal could access, had spied on them often. Specifically when they locked themselves in their room and had fall in each other's arms. Bathsheba knew what this meant and why they felt a fatal attraction to an act which went beyond the mere biological functions, but which she could not understand. For her, there was something nasty, dirty, in that kind of slow, prolonged dance in which two people were undressing, kissing, biting and licking, then merging into a hectic wave of entwined bodies, watered with sweat and saliva, which seemed to want to gobble each other amid a cacophony of sighs, moans and cries of authentic pleasure, which she initially confused with the most intense pain.

The first time she almost vomited in disgust. But even she wasn't away from the fascination that caused in her. Night after night, she went to spy on them, at least if she hadn't something to do. Gradually the feeling of nausea was reduced. Her pulse accelerated contemplating this, she who in nearly three years of life in a mortal body of twenty was absolutely virgin and never have tolerated being touched. There was something incredibly mysterious and sacred in that thing, something that was forbidden to the immortals. If Karel had been alive, he would have told his daughter, with evident contempt, that was a nasty price to be paid for having offspring. The Nephilim had mated only to perpetuate themselves and those were cold, mechanical and devoid of any emotion junctions, which had nothing to do with what she was seeing.

It was then that she began to feel almost sick with envy. She wanted to experience what they felt. It was an almost feverish, ill desire. She didn't know that any man in the world would have sold his soul to have her in his arms, because Bathsheba was not conscious of her superhuman beauty. She had hardly looked herself in a mirror and the face that stared back to her seemed quite common to her. The very idea of a mortal doing to her what Kurtis had done to Lara made her tremble from head to toe, in the midst of a limbo between absolute horror and curiosity.

And, that did not match at all with what Gertrude and Giselle had taught to her. Kurtis Trent was supposed to be a murderer, a cruel and revolting butcher, who enjoyed bloodshed and had vowed to wipe out all the immortals. Lara Croft was a whore, because women like her could only be whores, and she was as bloody as him, and laughed continually thinking of the lives that she destroyed. All this had nothing to do with what she was seeing. The man's murderous hands trembled slightly by stroking her body, when crossing it gently with the fingertips, as if afraid of getting burned by the heat of her skin. That bitch, supposedly incapable of feeling any emotion towards anyone in the world, closed her eyes and had abandoned herself to those caresses, those kisses, and shuddered when the strong arms of her companion grasped her against him or lunged her at each impulse of...

She blushed to the ears. She took her face, stunned, and thanked Lara could not see her, as she was asleep. What happened to her could not be explained.

_A part of you is human, Bathsheba, and you can't change this_, Marcus had told her repeatedly. Now that words tormented her. Not even the blood of Lilith could change that.

(...)

He crept carefully up to a couple of rocks he hadn't seen before. Never mind, he knew they had put them there expressly for him.

- How kind. - Kurtis growled.

The foot was sprained and bruised. He would not be able to lift again, unless he placed it in its original position. He had already touched it and was not broken, but soon it would swell and would not be able to wear the boot. Well, the faster he did that, the sooner he will end.

He put the foot between the narrow gap left by the two rocks, and once it was securely fastened, he took a deep breath, counted to three and swung his leg sharply. The creaking of the bruised joint when returning to its place, along with the lash of pain, almost left him unconscious. He stumbled and fell on the ground, releasing a string of swearwords, blasphemies and curses he hadn't used since the days when he was in the Legion.

Lying on his back, panting, he vowed to kill the damn Moloch as soon as he saw him ahead. For a while he contemplated those cold clouds and the sky was static from that place, until he fainted, exhausted.

He was awakened by the cry of a baby.

He sat up sharply, with the Chirugai in his hand, and looked around, his heart pounding. He didn't know how long he had been asleep, but certainly that had been a negligence.

There was nothing there except the same desolate landscape. However, he still heard the child mourning clearly, as if he were next to him.

He rose awkwardly. When putting his foot on earth, a wave of pain as liquid fire raised through his leg. The swelling wouldn't disappear in a while, but at least the bone was in place. He walked a dozen steps, limping, and stopped. The crying grew louder and louder.

- Is this your new joke? - he shouted in full voice, looking around. - You need to work in this more!

At that time he still didn't know that the cries of that unseen baby would last for the next few hours, more and more intense, resonating in his ears. There was something desperate in those sobs, as if he were suffering an unbearable pain or have been attacked by the utmost sadness.

He would never know, but he resisted that for eight hours. After that, his calm was gradually lost, while those tears went more and more intensified. Soon restlessness and anger deeper seized him by the feeling of abandonment of that cry. What nerve of him, the few that remained in him, were trying to destroy?

- Enough. - he muttered through clenched teeth. He pushed hard the intertwined fingers to reduce the nervous tremor of his hands - Stop it!

Those words, hissed through clenched teeth, turned to shouts of rage after four hours later. They wanted to drive him crazy, and they were getting it. He tried to close his eyes but those tears still were chasing him. He covered his ears, but they were still ringing in his head. At the end he fell into a dark blackness, shrunk in himself, rocking inconsolably, while awaiting the end of that ordeal.

He opened his eyes when perceiving the metallic smell of blood.

Before him lay a horrible spectacle. Scattered across the sand, like stones thrown at random, there were hundreds, thousands of tiny little bodies of babies. Most were fetuses who had not completed their growth. Some were bloody, others already rotting, some had been cut, others exhibited the umbilical cord still hanging, or were partly involved in a bruised placenta bruised. He distinguished children of several months of gestation, none exceeded the year of life.

The crying went increasing further its intensity, if that was possible.

He rose sharply. He sought the answer to that horrible sight sent by the Voragine and the Don, always witty, finally discovered to him what it meant, why they were showing that to him, what they were advertising to him. And it was too much for him.

He screamed in a horrible way and fell to his knees, clutching his head. He had been defeated. That was it. He couldn't resist any longer that existence. He didn't want to live to see if that fateful omen was fulfilled or not. They had already won.

With an horrible, paused determination, he put his hand in his belt and unhooked the deadly Chirugai. Slowly he approached the disk's edge to his throat. Actually, it was easy. One order would be enough, a mere imperative of his mind, and the blades would lift. Knowing the violent extent of that weapon, certainly not only they will move across his neck, but it will virtually behead him in one blow. Far better.

He closed his eyes to the sea of small bodies, quivering, spinning his heads towards him and spasmodically waving their arms and legs, and inspired to give the order to activate the razors.

A steady, strong hand appeared out of nowhere and violently grabbed his wrist, giving him a brutal tug forwards, at the time the blades lifted. He just felt a slight sting in the throat, tearing him only a trickle of blood. He cried in frustration when realizing he was saved, and as he struggled to understand what had happened, a strong, confident sounded at his side.

_Courage, my son! You're not alone anymore!_


	47. Chapter 46: Tears of Blood

**Chapter 46: Tears of Blood**

Kurtis looked up. Beside him was a man who looked about fifty years old, and he was covered in a black hooded robe, so he could only see his face, a face that seemed to have been very attractive once, but now crossed by deep lines of expression that showed a dominant character. The hair, as the slight beard, were gray-haired, but his eyes were scrutinizing him with an intense, distinctive, blue.

A strong hand, wiry, clutched his shoulder while snatching the Chirugai of his powerless fingers. His touch was amazingly real and consistent.

_I didn't give this to you to cut off your head, as you will remember._

- Wow, you here. - Kurtis murmured, smiling slightly.

_It seems I've arrived in time_, said Konstantin, without moving his lips, as all dead people seemed to talk in that place.

The Fighter sat, staring inquisitively at his son. He retained the same stern and inflexible look he reminded in him.

- You're not doing me a favor. - Kurtis muttered.

_By the Light's sake, Kurtis. You haven't come this far to end like this._

Kurtis tried to wake up, but again the foot pain forced him to sit.

- You know nothing. - he muttered - You have no idea of what I've endured.

_The Lux Veritatis are martyrs. We were born to suffer._

- Fuck that shit! - Kurtis exploded, glaring at him.

_Careful with that language, boy._

- I'm not your puppet anymore, father. - he turned her face - If you came for a speech about the cause of the Order, you can go back to rest.

He bent and buried his head in his arms. He was exhausted, too exhausted. Konstantin squeezed the Chirugai in his hand and stared at the horizon.

_I know you endure a heavy burden, Kurtis._

- A heavy burden? - he laugh bitterly - I sacrificed my youth and my life. I'm 35 years old and I'm over.

_I know, but there's still more to be done. You know it..._

- Why have you come? - he cut his speech.

_First, to prevent you from doing something stupid. And second, to guide you, son, because you're absolutely lost. To help you to avoid the coming disaster. I barely knew you and we never get along, but you're my son, my blood slides in your veins and you're the strongest Fighter ever born._

- Oh, yes, of course! - Kurtis laughed sarcastically.

_And besides, there was a time you wanted revenge. You saved your mother's life and have always fought against the demons. I owe you one._

- What I did, I did because I had no other choice. I'm not the hero you expected me to be. So leave me alone, because I want to die and you're in my way.

_The woman you love is here, in the Voragine._

There was a moment of silence, in which Kurtis looked at his father with an impenetrable expression. Anyone who had seen that face would have assumed that Kurtis give a damn what he just heard, but Konstantin knew that expression, which was similar to his, and that he adopted when inside his last forces were crumbling under an apparent calm.

_Even you know what that diabolical vision, which almost leads you to suicide, means. Lara will die on Lilith's altar, and your child with her. You must stop it._

- How! - he cried in despair, covering with a sharp blow of his arm that immensity - I can't see her, father! Neither she nor the others that were supposed to be here! Why this farsee if I can't use it!

_The Don is in you, but you never dominated it as you should. You're powerful, but the power dominates you, you don't dominate it. Only when you accept this and truly internalize the Don, as should have done so long ago, and not rebuking it like a cancer or an disgusting ulcer; only then, you'll embrace all the power within you, in a way neither I nor your grandfather never achieved to have._

Kurtis watched him for a moment in silence. Then he said without apparent emotion:

- Mother misses you.

A shadow of pain crossed Konstantin's pale face. When raising, Kurtis said traces of nails in his father's wrists. His bare feet poking under the tunic were also nailed.

_I never gave her what she deserved. I've always dreamed of her. Every moment that passes is one less time to meet us again. I also sacrificed my whole life, Kurtis._

- Give me that. - he said, noting the Chirugai.

_Whenever you don't try again to cut off your head._

- No. For Lara. - he said laconically.

He handed it over. The touch of his father was cold, hard, but real. It was still amazing.

_The key is to let the Light within you._

- I don't believe in the Light.

_That's your problem. You deny what makes you strong, and instead you believe in demons, immortals, in all that assaults you and makes you weaker._

- I can see them. Not the Light.

_Because you don't believe in it. You've grown denying who you are and rejecting the Don that was in you. Now is late. You may need to pay a high price for the Light to came definitely to you._

_- _I'm sick of mysteries. You talk like a Nephilim.

_Perhaps, if we had been as sincere as they were, we would have had more success. But we're mortal and carry around these defects. You should stop resisting to what you are. You've never been an ordinary man, and you never will be so. Neither Legion nor war have changed that. Renouncing to Lara won't avail you, she has followed you knowing she may die._

- That's so typical of her. - Kurtis sighed, surveying the landscape.

_If you can't get to her level, you don't deserve her. And that can be do only recognizing who you are and why you're here._

- The only thing I've always wanted is to live in peace. - Kurtis turned his face towards his father - but you all have denied this to me. Angels and demons. Tell me what had happened if I had done what you asked from me. I'll tell you: I'd have ended crucified by your side.

Konstantin shook his head in affirmation.

_It's true. And then, with your death, a path of destiny would have been cut. Lara would not have meet you, she wouldn't have conceived a child from you, and probably now she would be far away and safe from the darkness. But Eckhardt and Karel would have won, or whether they would have found her and would have killed her for intruding. The world would be a very dark place now. Nothing happens by chance, but you've taken too long time denying yourself. It's time to come to the Light. To that Light. You must reacquaint yourself._

- All this sounds like Buddhist meditation. - Kurtis' tone was quite sarcastic.

_You have not changed at all. You look like me._

There were, nevertheless, affection in his voice, in a man who barely had any occasion to express affection in his own whole life.

_There's something you should know. Something that's related to you, and that's the reason why you're not a current Lux Veritatis, at least among us. The Order always wondered why you, me, your grandfather, and his ancestors were so different. We were a kin of Fighters as never had existed. There was a feature that distinguished us, a pair of deep blue eyes that were inherited unchanged to any genetic mix, but there wasn't another demonstration that we could determine. Until I died and went to the other side I didn't know this terrible secret. Bathsheba knows this and the awareness of that truth is tormenting and destroying her. That should be your main advantage over her, because you must not be affected by this._

- How did she know?

_She learned this through a Vatican cardinal, a certain Ercole Monteleone._

- It sounds familiar to me. - Kurtis muttered, remembering the _capo_ who had almost managed to kill Lara.

_In his youth Karel himself had visited him and told him the truth. I don't understand why he did it, maybe he was so twisted, so much that I never suspected it was a Nephilim, at least until I was crucified and I could see him from above. Then the blindfold dropped from my eyes. Too late._

- What terrible secret is that? - seeing the hesitation of his father, Kurtis laughed - Come on, I'm a tough guy. I don't think this will kill me.

_Centuries ago, Lilith was incarnated in a mortal woman. She did it to punish Her children, the Nephilim._

- I thought she had fucked them enough by creating the Periapt, the Shards, and the Scepter, and delivering them to the Lux Veritatis.

_Her treachery went further. She seduced a Fighter and conceived a child. Definitely that brother believed she was a mortal woman, but she never heard again of her until a baby of few months was returned to the Order, with startling blue eyes, which certainly did not have his theoretical father._

He paused to scrutinize his son, who watched him for a moment in silence, expressionless. Then he buried his head in his chest and his shoulders began to shake. He began to chuckle and finally threw his head back and laughed, though it was a mirthless laugh.

_I would say you find funny the fact that our parental line descends from the Lilith Herself._

- Nothing can surprise me. What amuses me is that all this can cause any trauma to Bathsheba. I don't see why, because to me, I don't care descending from Lilith than from any other being.

_This makes us, to our regret, brothers of blood with the Nephilim themselves. That's what is making Bathsheba suffer._

- I don't suffer for it at all. I killed her father and I'll kill her if she hurts Lara. I'm not going to be stopped by her pretty face.

_That makes you stronger than she. But you still don't understand everything. Here's a more complex game. Lilith has been having fun all these centuries, in the midst of Her lethargy, watching Her two lines of children killing each other. And now She asks the last Nephilim to give Her the life of the last of her other children, still unborn. This is a wicked game with one goal: to ensure Her return._

- We're playthings of the gods. - Kurtis shrugged - Well, I've always done what I wanted. It would have been a shame not to do so.

_You may not have to kill her, Kurtis._

- That's up to me.

_Blood begets blood. I know that has never been my philosophy, but I didn't discover it until it was too late. You must stop this cycle of suffering, and prevent Lilith's awakening. She wants to destroy the world in revenge for what they did to Her at the dawn of humanity: confine Her to the abyss by the sake of love._

- And how am I supposed to do that?

_Eventually, if the Light has come into you, you'll know. I can't tell you because that hasn't been revealed to me._

- I knew. - Kurtis scoffed, standing up. His ankle was still swollen but at least he could stand on his feet.

It took him a moment to realize that the figure of his father was being diluted.

_I must leave... I can't stay here any longer..._

- Father! - he exclaimed.

_Remember what you heard. Have faith in yourself, assume what you are. But the answer to everything only can be given by yourself._

His figure faded into the air. Kurtis reached for him, but he was disembodied.

_Tell your mother... I'll be waiting for her..._

(…)

- Well! Something interesting at last!

Lara walked to the edge of the precipice. That was a huge gap in two fractured lands, which was extended on both sides to the horizon, seeming endless. She could not see the bottom, since at a few meters deep a thick fog completely stretched everything. The walls were steep, making it easy to climb.

- I thought everything was the same damn place. - she said to herself.

Without further addo, and before Bathsheba's curious eyes, she sat on the edge of the abyss, turned and slowly picked up a ledge nearby, trying not to crush her belly against the rocky wall, which would have given her greater stability.

- You're a strange woman. - said the Nephilim. - You can slip and kill yourself.

- I prefer that to die of boredom. Also, there are no demons. And after all, is not your mission to look after me, huh? Then take care of your business.

She continued descending, satisfied with that exercise, which at least entertained her. The air was cool and helped to dry the sweat from her skin, while leaving a dazed feeling. By clinging to a ledge of the wall and scan the fog, she felt a terrible fright: a few inches of her Bathsheba's slender figure was floating, suspended in the air. She was like a ghost. Lara grunted and continued her descending. Luckily that wasn't too stressful for the slight weight she began to feel inside her.

She didn't know how long she took to get to the bottom. She stopped to rest from time to time, until a thick darkness enveloped her and her feet touched ground. She leaned against the wall and sat there, breathing laboriously. Bathsheba touched down gently, but her face turned immediately to a nearby cave.

- We're not alone. - she announced to Lara.

She hadn't heard anything, but it wouldn't have been sensible to discuss the Nephilim's sixth sense, since she wouldn't have discussed Kurtis' one, too. She grabbed her gun and headed to there. Bathsheba didn't move an inch.

- Are you frightened? - Lara scoffed.

She shook her head.

Lara was surprised to find a figure, huddled on the floor. She was almost naked, with her clothes in tatters and covered in blood and dirt, clung to a very short hair which was pulling with her grimy hands in silence. Lara didn't recognize her at first, but then...

- Giselle! - Lara exclaimed, astonished.

The creature looked up and fixed on her with a insane glance. Her eyes were still green and luminous, but a spark of madness was in them. She stared at her enemy for a moment. Then she threw her head back and let out a hoarse laugh. She was missing several teeth in the mouth.

- Do you also come to haunt me, bitch? - she snapped in a voice that seemed not hers – Come on! - she screamed, and threw a blow at her, a dirty hand of broken nails where more than one finger was missing - Come here!

Lara could have killed her, or kick her to the ground. But she was absolutely horrified. Giselle was insane, or so it seemed. Something or someone had left her in that state, and finally that had come to affect her mind.

- What happened to you?

She let out another monstrous laugh, crouched and began to rock back and forth, like an ape, and humming under her breath:

- They see me, hear me, follow me ... they are thousands of hands, don't you know? ... they come one after another to judge me and touch me, undress me, pull my hair ... they removed my teeth, cut my fingers ... la-la-la-la ...

She laughed and swung her head from side to side. Her skin was cold and her lips bluish, her eyes were bruised and full of dark circles. Her half-naked body was covered with bruises, cuts and burns.

- Poor woman, she's crazy. - Lara said.

She turned towards Bathsheba, who observed the scene, very pale.

- My mother is paying for what she has done. - said the Nephilim - All the people whom she killed because of her experiments and treatments have been coming for revenge. They have done with her what they wanted. Now she's alienated. This is her Bitter Path, which was reserved for her from the beginning. She's the Angel of Death. Now, the dead come to make her pay.

Suddenly, Giselle screamed. She stared towards any particular location and spread her arms, she started to jerk spasmodically:

- No! Go away! Why have you come back? Leave me alone! You've done enough to me... let me go... don't hurt me ... nooo ...

Like a possessed, she writhed on the floor, shook, screamed and convulsed spasmodically, as if someone were kicking her. For no apparent reason, she started to leak blood from the mouth, nose and ears. Lara approached towards her, but was stopped by Bathsheba:

- Don't touch her! That would be worse.

- What the hell ...?

- Revenge will be continuous. You can't see them, but they're now here. Forget about this, that's her punishment.

Lara turned away. She knew how much damage that woman had done. She was trying to hate her. That woman had ordered Kurtis to be tortured without mercy, just for the sake of revenge. She had ordered Vlad's murder and had left Selma in a vegetative state. She had had Marcus locked in a cell for years. She had so much innocent blood noted on her account. Lara tried to hate her with all her might, but she couldn't overcome the feeling of horror, disgust and compassion for a punishment that her mind couldn't understand. She stepped back.

Giselle stretched her arms towards them.

- Take them from me! Tell them to go!

- I'm sorry, Giselle. I warned you. - hissed Bathsheba - Now neither I nor anyone can help you.

She turned and walked away. Lara followed her, turning her head every few minutes. The screams of the tortured one were running until they became extinct.

So what was the Bitter Path. Too much pain.

- Your time will come, too! - murmured Bathsheba, looking askance at Lara, who didn't hear her.

(...)

Maddalena had nearly died of terror when Kurtis had attempted to commit suicide. She had pounced on him, she had cried, she had beaten, pushed him and tried to snatch that horrible weapon from his fingers. All useless. He could not see or hear her. But suddenly, he had stopped after cutting his neck's skin slightly, and had begun to wander and speak alone, just like a madman. The ginger girl had not seen neither that hubbub of abortions, nor Konstantin. It was evident for her that Kurtis was losing his mind. That ached as if the damage was addressed to herself.

And it hurt her later even more, when Moloch returned.

(…)

The Prince of All Incubi appeared shortly after Konstantin's visit. He came surrounded by several incubi, which materialized in the air a few feet from where Kurtis rested. He seemed not to see them.

_Don't think now you'll fool me_, smiled the devil. _You would be able to play dead and let you cut several fingers, for when I was distracted by collecting them, you'll skip my neck. Who trained you so well?_

- You. - Kurtis said, without moving a muscle.

Demons released a string of cruel laughter. Maddalena shuddered. She was very close to them. An incubus turned and looked directly at her face. She screamed.

_The Innocent is there_, Moloch said, still looking towards Kurtis. _She had taken a while following you and trying to take care of you. Pathetic. Today we'll have fun as ever._

- You're a dasher, Moloch. - muttered Kurtis - You like to waste time in me, when your real problem is that Nephilim.

_My real problem are both of you. Specially you. I haven't forgotten about the times you made me bite the dust._

- Wow, how rancorous.

He jumped. The incubi's wings deployed immediately.

- You're six to one. It's not a fair fight.

_This is Hell, man. Get used to that._

Maddalena screamed again when the five incubi pounced on him. Moloch staid in his place, smiling, to admire his work. Soon after, Kurtis had managed to kill three of them, although he was bleeding from several wounds and faced new difficulties for the other two surround him. He took a long time to cast down another one, but at the same time the second hit him in the neck a backlash. He fell without a cry, suddenly unconscious.

_Perfect._

At his word, six incubi emerged from nowhere and surrounded her Prince. They carried wooden stakes, ropes and nails. Moloch bent and picked up the Chirugai, who had still its blades open.

_You know what you have to do._

- No! - shouted Maddalena, who threw herself on the lying body in an attempt to protect Kurtis. The vision of the nails, big and rusty, made her think of what might come. But her gesture did nothing but amuse the hellish creatures, which unleashed their laughters.

_Take her off here. Hold her up ahead, I want her to see everything._

Sharp claws, hard and scaly arms, ripped her from there. She screamed, bit, kicked and spat, but it was useless. I didn't mind how much she struggled, she couldn't escape from the incubus which kept her immobilized and whispered cruelties in her ear. She had no choice but to watch helplessly as those beings sank four stakes in the ground and tied Kurtis to them, leaving him lying in the form of X. With a pull of the strings, he was raised a few inches above the ground. Even that made not him to regain consciousness.

Then Moloch told them to bring her. The incubus dragged her there and forced her to knee down before him.

_Tell me, do you love this man? Even more than your own life?_

Maddalena nodded, trembling. Then she said:

- Please, don't hurt him anymore!

_Would you like to see yourself united to him?_

- Please!

_The Voice promised you to give him to you, right? But ... how long take these incorporeal beings to fulfill their promises! Sure you're dying of impatience. We, the incubi, are far more practical. We'll solve the problem in the blink of an eye. I will join you to him at this very moment!_

An incubus took her arm with strength and forced her to put her hand on Kurtis' hand, who was tied to a stake. Maddalena, unconsciously, gripped that dear hand, laced her fingers with hims, grabbing that feverish and bloody hand.

_Ah, perfect. And now the ultimate union._

Seeing an incubus bringing a nail and a hammer, she started screaming. She squirmed, trying to escape, but Moloch now was holding her arm tightly, keeping her from letting go Kurtis' hand. The incubus supported the huge and rusty nail's tip in the back of Maddalena's delicate hand and then stroked the hammer on the nail's head.

A stabbing, horrible pain, pierced her all over. She screamed. That hammer strike four more times. The nail penetrated her hand and then crossed Kurtis' one, burrowing into the wood of the stake. Blood was splattered on their both faces. Kurtis' body jerked, as if he were reviving because of the intense pain.

_Now the other one. Of course, my dear, we won't leave this unfinished._

The incubus' sarcastic laughter echoed in her ears. Then, four other hammer strikes, four lashes of unbearable pain, which made her almost faint. Her two hands nailed to Kurtis' hands, he face up, she near his head.

_Now you're really united_, said Moloch, and a chorus of monstrous laughters accompanied his comment. Maddalena bent and dropped her head on Kurtis' shoulder, covering his face with her hair. Then, he opened his eyes and looked around, confused.

Moloch ordered the other incubi to leave. They vanished without further addo. He stared satisfied his work, enjoying the pain and confusion of his victims. The blood had soaked the stakes and was dripping on the floor. Her blood, intermingled with his blood.

- What have you done? - Kurtis said, trying to lift his head, turning towards Moloch - What did you do, motherfucker?

He didn't care about him. He didn't mind neither about the pumping pain of his pierced hands, nor the insufferable and uncomfortable position.

- Couldn't you leave her alone? This is between you and me.

_But she wanted to be with you. Don't you see? Ah! Now you can see her, right?_

Maddalena's burning tears fell over his face. He looked up and saw her for the first time since they were there.

Moloch walked to where he was. He held in his hand the Chirugai. He leaned close to Kurtis and approached the blades to his face.

_Now beg me to have mercy on you._

- You're insane. Let her go.

_Beg me to release her. Cry a little. I'm tired of your bravery. How can I force you to scream? Ah, yes, I have an idea._

The blade's tips stroked Kurtis' cheek. Magdalena moaned.

_Beg me to have mercy on you, or I'll rip your eyes off with this. Come on. Do it._

- Poor fool.

I'll rip first the right one and then the left one. Then I will put them in a box and take them to that English bitch. Come on. Beg me. I want to hear you loud and clear.

- Why, why are you doing this? - she cried, horrified.

_He has humbled me many times_, growled the incubus, showing her the empty socket on his face, _the last time he rip my eye off. What said your human law? An eye for an eye..._

He didn't finish the sentence. Kurtis took a breath and spat Moloch out in his very face. That destroyed the remains of Moloch's patience. Without a single word, the demon grabbed Kurtis' head of a blow and drove the Chirugai's blade with surgical precision.

- For God's sake! - shouted Maddalena.

But it was too late.

(...)

A liquid, bloody fire went through his head. For a moment he had the horrible feeling that his skull would burst inside and fragmented into a thousand pieces. The viscous, burning blackness filling his vision slowly melted, and through its cracks emerged a splendid ray of light, a bright and magnificent aura that filled him completely. The grief abandoned him in a cry of pain. A pure clarity invaded his body and mind and, little by little, everything started to take shape. The reality rippled and stretched again, clothed in light, a white light with yellowish loopholes, which didn't hurt neither his sight nor his tired soul.

He didn't realize that his tortured body was being released until he felt his back touching the ground. He heard a woman mourning near him. He spread his hands to touch her and felt her viscous, small hands, perforated like his own hands.

- I have... freed myself... - he heard the woman sobbing in time intervals - ... please be calm... I'm freeing you... resist a little...

The pain of his hands was throbbing, but he felt his head as full of cotton. The light danced before his face and saw, slowly, the luminous, soft figure of the crying woman who was attending him.

- Giulia. - he muttered.

- Be calm... don't move ... now, now I'm going to cover you...

Maddalena had mourned bitterly in her struggle to free herself once Moloch had left, taking those beautiful blue eyes with him. She cried with anger and bitterness as she pulled out the nails, ripped her blouse into strips to bandage her hands, and proceeded to untie and lay on the ground the man she loved more than life.

- What happened? - Kurtis stammered, trying to lift a hand to touch his face. Maddalena stopped him.

- No, don't touch yourself. - she sobbed - Kurtis... Moloch... has ripped your eyes off... you're blind, Kurtis...

It couldn't be. It made no sense. He saw light, lots of light. Everything was light, even Maddalena was light.

- But I can see... everything is full of light, Giulia...

She wasn't listening. She could only mourn and try to hold the blood that poured in torrents from his empty sockets, his torn eyelids torn, and whisper:

- Easy, easy... I'll wrap this... I'll put a cloth... don't worry, I'm here, I will guide you, I won't abandon you, I swear, my love...

Kurtis raised his hands and touched his face, soaked in blood. Could that had happened?

- Giulia, now I understand... it's the Light ... I see the Light!

She didn't listen. She tore a strip from her blouse, folded it in several folds and bandaged Kurtis' face, covering his hideous mutilation. Then she hugged him and kissed his bloodied lips repeatedly. He was too stunned to notice that.

- You don't stop bleeding. - she lamented - I don't know what to do...

Kurtis regained the usual tone of his voice, cold and sure.

- I won't stop bleeding. He ripped my eyes off with the Chirugai. The wounds caused by this weapon never heal. I'll always bleed.

He rose, helped by Maddalena.

- We must continue. Now... now I know what to do. - he muttered.

- You should rest. You've been tortured... both of us should rest.

He shook his head vehemently. No. She couldn't understand. He could see, he saw the Light, he saw things in the form given by the Light. For the first time, he saw everything clearly.

- This is the sacrifice my father told me. - he said to Maddalena, who didn't understand - My eyes, my vision, in exchange for the Light. Now I understand.

Under the bandage, falling streams of blood kept running down his cheeks and dripped on his chest. Thick tears of blood.


	48. Chapter 47: Doom

**Chapter 47: Doom**

The valley at the bottom of the gorge ended in another cave, opposite to the place where they had left the alienated Giselle. Lara lit a flare she had taken with her - and so far, had been of little use until then - and plunged into darkness, with her hand near her holster. Bathsheba followed her at a distance. She had stopped levitating and now was walking, the soil's stones hurting her white feet, but she didn't seem to notice that.

Lara enjoyed entering an underground place where anyone else would have turned and run out, so gloomy and suffocating was the atmosphere of that rocky gallery descending into earth's bowels. She, after all, was used to that. It was that flat, empty expanse in which they had traveled up to that time, which could make her nervous, not knowing how to orientate or know if he was going somewhere. At least there was only one possible way.

Behind her, she noticed Bathsheba's nervous. Since she couldn't see her, Lara flashed a wide grin of sarcasm. That creature didn't resembled her father. The idea of imagining Karel nervous or anxious about something provoked hilarity. But more than that, it was laughable to think that bitch knew what was about to happen to them and instead of doing something to warn her or to be prevented, she was merely tormenting herself and trembling. Pathetic.

- You wouldn't believe me if I told you what will happen to you shortly. - Bathsheba replied to her thoughts, wearily - And my father was a pure Nephilim, not a half-human like me. He couldn't have feelings.

- Sorry, divine one. - Lara laughed, scanning the dark - But I haven't given you permission to read my mind.

- It's involuntary. Besides, people as conceited as you scream so much when thinking that all Voragine's demons should be hearing you right now.

- Great.

The tunnel was descending. She touched the rock to guide herself. At other times she wouldn't have moved so slow, but that incipient, strange new weight she felt in her belly made her to be instinctively cautious. Moreover, it should be a thing of the uncontrolled explosion of hormones who kept her in a dazed, almost lethargic state, which made her to feel so relaxed, so calm, as if she wasn't fooling around on the very hell, not knowing where to go and with an ominous prophetess of doom attached to her heels; whom mission was to watch her slaughtering, not to mention that she just ignored if Kurtis was alive or dead or what could have happened to him...

_Stop it, you idiot. You're stupid. You've always known how to take care of yourself and this time nothing should be different_, she inwardly reproached herself. _It's just another damn den with other unlikely probability of surviving. You've been through this a thousand times. If you mess up this, you die, but before that happens, try something._

- What happened with the Scepter? - she asked suddenly, while continuing to look ahead - All this mess was because of this damn thing. It would be a shame you lost it, after all the trouble it's giving.

- It's safe. - said Bathsheba - Along with the Periapt and the Shards. They will be used when appropriate.

The carelessness with which the Nephilim answered greatly facilitated her some access to pry information. Of course this could be because it really did not matter, since she won't be able to change the course of events. If there was something that Lara annoyed more than anything else in the world, was not to be certain about the future and not be fully in control of her own actions.

- Stop. - she exclaimed, stopping short. She reached forward, to the front, and made a sweep with the flashlight - Who's there?

She hadn't noticed the slightest change, but now she was certain that someone was there before. Bathsheba looked sideways without losing her central field of vision, and saw the Nephilim puzzled frown, as if this was unexpected, even for her.

_Moloch, Lord of the Incubi and Prince of Demons_, said a nightmare voice from the dark. Lara tensed her muscles. _I come to bring you a valuable gift from your love._

(...)

_30 day in the Voragine._

_Maybe I should call this a new stage in the rocky valley, as the empty desert was left behind us. There's no doubt that the evil beings who govern this horrible dimension have wanted that._

_I fear for Lara's life. She's really unprotected, but she thinks not. She has full confidence in her skills, but that won't be enough this time. I fear what may happen, and that's going to lead to disaster._

_Bathsheba... what do you do? React! You still have time... you must change, you must rebel... it's impossible you might end up by obeying Her. You might not have believed Her flattering promises. You'll destroy innocent people, everything just to go to languish in the same darkness than Her._

_You'll taint you hands with blood, you who are pure and innocent..._

(…)

- Be careful. There's Giselle Boaz up ahead, and she's totally deranged.

Maddalena blinked and looked surprised at Kurtis. His face remained impassive and expressionless, at least what could be behind the thick cloth that covered his mutilated eyes and the blood trickles running down across the cheeks. She still couldn't get used to the fact that Kurtis seemed to be able to see, and even seeing better than before losing his eyes. She couldn't explain this, but it seemed to be. However, she still refused to accept it and kept trying to guide him. She took his arm and peered into the dark rock in the valley, but saw nothing.

- Lara is near. - Kurtis ordered - Let's move on. Stay behind me.

Lara, Lara, Lara... always Lara. Had Lara been with him when he was tortured and maimed? Had Lara healed his wounds, changed his blindfold tearing her own clothes, having nothing better? Had Lara's hands been pierced with nails? Her wounded hands' pain worsened when feeling the rage that filled her inside.

Kurtis's hand placed on her shoulder and squeezed her hard.

- Reserve this rage to survive, Giulia.

She had the grace to blush.

- Can you hear what I think?

- Now, yes.

Soon she began to distinguish something up ahead. A figure was huddled against the high rock wall, crouching and withdrawn on itself. A half-naked and bloodied figure trembled like a silk hair exposed to a biting wind. She instinctively run to help her, but Kurtis' arm shot up like a spring and grabbed her so hard that left her at the place.

- Don't even think in doing that.

- She's badly injured!

- We're not sure how she will react. In this state, she's more dangerous than never before.

They felt a start, because then Giselle jumped. She should wore only four to five strips of fabric hanging from her tortured body, but she neither seem to notice nor she was embarrassed. She peered at them, a gaze which was still clear and bright in a face so swollen and full of cuts that made a terrible impression. She could be really insane, but she perfectly distinguished her hated enemy. She shrieked with a whistle that sounded hollow, snubbed between her broken teeth and leap forward brandishing her nails. Maddalena screamed and instinctively tended to cover Kurtis, but Giselle didn't get far. Almost instantly an invisible force stopped her and threw her back, pressing her against the wall.

- Enough! - Maddalena shouted, however.

- Why? - Kurtis said coldly - She hasn't been very nice to me.

- But, despite all...

- Relax, I was just defending us.

Giselle sprawled on the floor for a moment, which they used to pass cautiously at her side, without turning away from her. With a start, she sat back and reached out, catching the ginger girl's ankle, who screamed and rushed to get free. She didn't seem to want to fight, because her arm dropped limply. From her lips came a crust groan:

- You son of a bitch...

Kurtis didn't have the slightest doubt that she was referring to him. He turned to face her. The woman, seeing him, began to crawl, fixing her hateful gaze in him. He realized with surprise that he was sorry for her, after all he had suffered because of that woman. Even in that moment he felt he had no right to kill her. Or doing anything for revenge.

Giselle retreated prancing like a snake and fell to her knees, staring at her enemy. Then she hissed:

- They almost killed me, all those bastards... but ah! They couldn't kill me... I'm stronger... they said it was their right... I killed them... you also came to charge your debt?

Kurtis shook his head.

- You're finished. The Light around you is black. - he turned around - You just have to drag and die like a dog.

The woman let out a menacing hiss. Foam appeared at the corner of her mouth. Maddalena came forward, frightened.

- She's insane! Let's go!

- Why did they came to me and not to you, huh? - Giselle howled - They came to me, to destroy me... and you, you who are a murderer and a rapist... where are your dead? Did they ripped your eyes off?

- Murderer, yes. - Kurtis said - Rapist, never.

- Let's go! - Maddalena yelled, grabbing his arm.

- What's your punishment then? What one? What one? - she was screaming her lungs out – You might not stay unpunished! You killed an angel, you wicked! You killed a divine being...

Kurtis turned and made his way into the cave, with Maddalena still pinned at his arm. For a moment, Giselle's expletives followed them. Then a constant scraping noise against the floor notified them that, dragging badly, she was following them.

(…)

When Moloch came out of the darkness, Lara gasped and her eyes widened. Neither the most fevered imagination of any great painter could have generated a creature similar to the horror that was the Prince of Incubi. That sort of animal-headed, reptilian man, could not be created by anyone. His smile was frightening even the more sinister as one of his eyes was missing, recently emptied according to the still gelatinous pulp poured through his scaly cheek.

_Did I frightened you, my dear?_ the demon said hoarsely, satisfied to capture Lara's horrified gaze, _Maybe another appearance to which you're more used?_

Suddenly the winged figure was blurred in the eyes of the two women and took Kurtis' figure and appearance, a naked Kurtis who made a lewd smile, his eyes covered with a bluish, malignant glow which wasn't at real Kurtis.

_I'm better for you like this, huh?_, he reached out and touched Lara's arm maliciously, who gave another gasp and stepped back. _How can you refuse me? You didn't refuse him when you got him at night in your room, huh, bitch?_

- This is grotesque, Moloch. - Bathsheba sentenced, taking a step forward – This comedy is useless.

The incubus smiled contemptuously.

_Oh, but if it's my new rival! Pathetically wrapped behind human flesh. The virgin who talks beautifully with her mouth but whose eyes reveal all her dirtiness, huh?_, he turned towards Lara and said: _Did you know how many nights she spied while you and your Lux Veritatis were doing nasty things together?_

A deep flush rose to the Nephilim's pristine cheeks, who hissed under her breath:

- Your days of glory are coming to an end, Moloch.

_Oh_, said the incubus, as if that couldn't affect him, and took two steps towards her. _You're a beautiful and unsatisfied creature. But that you want I can give it to you, my dear._

He swatted at Bathsheba, trying to grab her, but with a single jump she put herself out of reach, raised an arm and stretched two fingers, which caught fire with blue and cold flames.

- If you touch me - she sentenced, threatening – I'll burn you alive.

Apparently the threat was serious, because with a sly smile, Moloch went back. Somehow a creature like him had something to fear from Bathsheba, Lara scored mentally, while analyzing each other, which was something worth remembering.

_I can always amuse myself with this human bitch_, was telling the incubus. _I've been told you're proud, Lara Croft, but to what limits your proud arrives? You'd have sex with me?_

Lara had the feeling that everything was a game arranged by that nasty, horrible monster who used Kurtis' appearance, but for what purpose?

- I think I'd have sex with a sewer rat before than with you. - she answered sharply, and when he approached to her, she raised her gun and pointed to him - Hold it right there, or I'll broke your mouth with one shoot.

The false Kurtis greatly opened his eyes with a feigned glance of innocence.

_Will you shoot me, your love?_

- You're not him. You're not even the half of him.

She mustn't have told that. That touched a nerve, if that monster have so. His face contorted in an cruel, hideous expression cruel, hideous, not fitting with Kurtis' appearance, and hissed:

_Of course I'm not him, because I still have one eye left._

The way he said this made an unpleasant shiver go up her back and a nasty pressure close the pit of her stomach. However, with no hesitation, she continued holding the gun with a firm hand and staring through her opponent.

_Ah, such a proud girl_, smiled the incubus. _What an immense pleasure I'm going to have by submitting you. But I won't distract from the main purpose of my visit. I've to bring you this._

And he held out a small red box brought from she didn't know where. Lara took it, while another terrible, distant picture, came up him to her mind, that moment when she had been given a cardboard box with Radha's severed fingers. At that time she had felt terrified because she had expected something different as content. Even she had felt guilty for feeling relieved that it was not that. But now she could not keep from shaking hands to keep the gun and try to open the box, because she knew her fears would be confirmed.

- Don't open that box. - then said Bathsheba – Don't follow his game.

But it was late. When she saw the box's content -a pair of torn, bloody eyes, the same blue eyes she had fallen in love with so long ago- she felt a lump in her throat and a terrible burning in her eyes. She tried to control herself, even though she was trembling like a leaf, and clenched her jaws to snap up the sob that struggled to sprout from her chest. Above all, she must not drop the box.

_See how she struggles to keep her dignity_, Moloch sighed in mocking sorrow. _Humans are so weak, even those who claim to be proud and strong as this woman. C'mon honey, you can mourn a little, we won't tell anyone, will you, Blessed Daughter? _The Nephilim's title sounded mocking and sarcastic. _Ah, how funny. He started, you know? That Lux Veritatis had humiliated me before, and I swore I would charge him with humiliation. He stared at me so condescending, so I ripped his eyes off. Ugh, it was so pleasant! And with his own weapon, so that pig won't stop bleeding. But he's lucky with that fucking female human at his side to guide him, since he would otherwise be stumbling against everywhere! But... what are you doing?_

While struggling to not hear Moloch's speech, which was hurting her, she had taken one of the bloodshot eyes, holding it with her thumb and forefinger. Suddenly, before their astonished gaze, she put it in her mouth and swallowed it, and also did the same with the other one.

Bathsheba turned around in disgust, while shaking with nausea.

_Yuck_, Moloch laughed, _How disgusting! Seems like it will be true that you would fuck a rat... it looks disgusting ..._

- His eyes - said Lara hoarsely in pain - are the cleanest thing that touched this damn hell since you and I were born.

She struggled to hold back her tears before their enemies, but it was a losing battle. She noticed them, burning, sliding down her cheeks, as she took her hand back to the gun. Bathsheba looked at her, speechless, fascinated by the intensity of feelings that she could not, she could never, feel.

_You know_, Moloch said, gesturing towards Bathsheba, _she knew what had happened at the very moment I ripped his eyes off, and didn't say anything on purpose. Moreover, when she knew, she laughed well at ease._

- I didn't laughed! - Bathsheba cried bitterly - I didn't laughed!

But Lara wasn't listening. She held the gun and with a mechanical gesture fired two shots, hitting one in Kurtis-Moloch's forehead and another one in Bathsheba's. Then she turned and went down the tunnel, her eyes smudged with grief. She heard a moan of pain and a cry of astonishment mixed with anger, which she couldn't identify because her ears rang.

_This way you're not going to kill us, my dear_, the incubus' voice hissed very close, too close to her. _Your ridiculous bullets only can tickle us_.

She turned quickly, but it was too late. Moloch's blow caught her in the face and threw her to the ground. The gun flew from her hand, but just as quickly she pulled out the long knife strapped to her thigh. The incubus threw himself over her – he had recovered his original form - and brought his ghastly smile to her face, but suddenly he let out a roar of pain. Lara had plunged the knife into his left wing web, and without stopping, she tore the skin to achieve the fine joints and break them with a flick of the wrist. That caused unbearable pain to Moloch, and the slumbering serpent coiled in his body seemed to feel it, because suddenly opened its red eyes and shot her head towards Lara, sinking its fangs into her neck with a vengeance. That huge snake had an incredible strength, because with a twist struck Lara, forcing her to drop the knife, and pushed her aside by rolling.

Moloch rose furious, with outstretched wings, and pulled out the knife with a gesture of rage , while the snake coiled back and closed its eyes. To Lara's desolation, who believed to have weakened him, the wound was slowly closing, leaving the wing intact. Then she remembered that there were only two weapons which could harm a demon: the Periapt Shards, and Kurtis' Chirugai.

_Bitch_, smiled the incubus. _I'll make you to swallow that pride_.

She jumped up and brandished the knife. Moloch laughed. He liked human daring. It always reported more fun. And even more if it was a woman. And if that was the Lux Veritatis' whore, that could be a perfect plan. He actually was only following strict orders received from higher authority, but nothing prevented him to play with his victim before. And because the demons of his kind were engaged to take human form to seduce or violate human women, as the succubi did with men, the idea of a proud, haughty and defiant human excited him greatly. It would be an absolute pleasure to dominate and humiliate her.

He threw himself on her, roaring. Lara feinted to the side and swung the blade, the first blow blew some demon arm scales. She was not afraid. She'd be terrified at first, but now Moloch just produced in her an unspeakable disgust. She thought in Kurtis' mutilated eyes, which she had eaten to prevent them for more profanation, and rage granted her all the strength she needed. The second thrust, rather successful, sliced at once the head of the serpent. Moloch stopped when noticing the snake convulsing around him, decapitated the snake off his body and after a few crackles, lay still on the floor.

_Freya!_, Moloch roared, furious, _You killed my Freya!_

Lara smiled sarcastically and put her fingers on her neck's bite, from which flowed a stream of tiny blood which was soaking her clothes. Fortunately, it appeared not to be from a poisonous species... if it was a natural kind of snake.

Moloch furiously swept the floor, flapping his wings, and propelled against Lara. The tackle smashed her against the wall, leaving her stunned a few seconds, which took Moloch to grab her arm and keep her still pressing her shoulder against the opposite wall. The demon brought her face to her so she could feel his fetid breath, and suddenly his hot and sticky tongue, which licked her face widely from the neck, through her cheek and to her temple. She turned her face, containing an archway.

_How? Do I disgust you, my dear?_

Above the membranous wings of her captor, Lara saw Bathsheba, who was not involved at any time to defend her, but instead was watching the scene with a mixture of horror and compassion. She wondered if not moving a finger to help her was part of the plan, but no matter what happened, she was determined to not plead help anyone, least of all to her.

Moloch snuggled closer to her, and lick her face again. She felt something hard against her thigh, and discovered, dazed, it was a phallus similar to human males' one, only that this one had a disproportionate size and was covered in sharp scales. She tried to struggle but the incubus' strength was too huge.

_Let's see, you're very strong, very proud. Very brave. How much are you able to resist without screaming in pain?_

No sooner had he said this, when the paw that gripped her right arm, the knife's one, began to make a slow rotation, forcing her arm to bend over. The forearm turned slowly until it stops at the elbow joint, but he didn't stop there. He kept turning it. Lara let out a gasp of pain. Her fingers, trembling and powerless, dropped the knife, which fell to the floor with a clink.

_Tic-tac-tic-tac_, Moloch hissed in her ear._ You need to shout a little, my dear, just a little. Beg me not to twist your arm anymore. Come on, woman, if you can't stand it. Or maybe you want to see your arm broken?_

The pain was horrible, unbearable. Lara turned her face and clenched her teeth. A feeling of horror and helplessness filled her inside when understanding Moloch's intentions, and silently screamed Kurtis' name, wishing he was there. Her joint reached the limit and a lash of pain ran through her again.

_As soon as you scream, I'll let you little arm go. Word of Moloch, Lord of the Incubi. Come on, my dear, collaborate a bit, let's see how you cry..._

More pressure. And more. And more. Lara closed her eyes tightly and tried to escape to that, trying not to think about that, but she couldn't, the pain had become the center of her being. She stifled a sob of pain, held out until the last moment, and then Moloch, with a cruel smile, made a final sharp twist. Her left arm cleanly broke through an area above the elbow.

Then she screamed. But it sounded as if that cry didn't come out of the depths of her being. She thought it was someone else's crying in such horrible way.

_Too bad, too late_, said Moloch, _you humans are so fragile..._

With one tug he cast her down. She fell on her broken arm. She screamed again. The pain was insane, it wouldn't let her think. She thought she saw her arm in a horrible position, her elbow bent inward instead of outward as usual, but she had her vision blurred. She inhaled air and fell back on the floor, panting. He gave her no respite. She noticed a claw gripping her by the hair, forcing her to raise her head. The devil twisted and pulled Lara's braid viciously, forcing her to look at him.

_Did you finally noticed that I'm serious, huh? Now let's see how it goes... don't you want to be scalped, right? Would your pride go so far?_

Another pull made her eyes fill with tears. Besides she could glimpse Bathsheba's figure, saying:

- Enough, Moloch! This is not necessary!

_How, do you pity this bitch? Explain this to me._

Trying to ignore the pain, Lara fumbled with her good arm the left holster. Luckily, about handling weapons, she was ambidextrous.

- She has to come alive to the Mother's Throne. Those are the orders, you know.

_Bah, this won't kill her! I deserve to have fun!_

- Do you want the gift having a really unfortunate looking when we deliver it to Her? Is like that what you worship the Goddess?

_Moloch only worships Moloch!_, hissed the monster.

- You're a blasphemer.

_And you, princess, you're not even a shadow of your father. That one was a demon to be proud of!_

Lara inhaled air and counted to three. Suddenly, she moved with surprising speed. Her forces were born of desperation. With one tug she dropped herself from Moloch's paw, although so much of her hair was pulled, resting between the devil's nails. She turned the gun and fired a rifle butt with all her might against the incubus' mouth. She didn't stop to look at how this shred his teeth. She turned quickly and hit Bathsheba with a violent elbow hit of her good arm, then she went down towards the tunnel, running with all her soul, and trying to overcome the excruciating pain of the broken arm she held against her chest. She ran and didn't know where she plunged into total darkness.

(...)

Lara paused, her heart pounding, and acute her hearing. She couldn't heard anything. It seemed she had not been followed, but she didn't want to make any illusions.

Suddenly, a violent stab of pain in her belly made her bend. She leaned against the wall, panting, and waited to submit it. She wanted to move on, but instead her legs failed and she collapsed on the floor.

What she had experienced was a contraction. She closed her eyes, exhausted, and curled up, hugging her good arm, whispering:

- Not now, please, resist a bit, we can go on...

For the first time she spoke to the child she was carrying in the womb, Kurtis' son, her own son. He had survived until then, but he could die right now. For if the contractions continued, she would abort. And in those circumstances, she would bleed to death.

Although she didn't know if that would be better.

Lara buried her face in her good arm, trembling. She hated the feeling of helplessness and weakness, which she had not experienced before. She was afraid, she was totally terrified. She didn't know where she was, she had no purpose, and she was at the mercy of violent and heinous beings, against whom her usual weapons, intelligence, physical agility and firearms, were completely useless. She was helpless, absolutely helpless.

Then she experienced another contraction.

Unable to contain herself any longer, Lara began to mourn.

(...)

_Day 30 in the Voragine. Part two._

_Lara is doomed._

His hand shook when he wrote it. Then he dropped the pen and hid his face in his hands.

Oh Blessed Light – Marcus the Wise sobbed - help us...

(…)

She heard them appearing around her, but she didn't move. Her whole interest was centered in herself, in her interior, in retaining that creature whom her battered body could no longer stand. So when she looked up to look at her executioners, she did it with a cold, emotionless glance. Her tears had already dried.

Moloch's evil smile, now with a pair of fangs and many other broken detached, received her at first. But after him there were several _incubi_, and around them some others as much, maybe twenty. Bathsheba wasn't anywhere.

_Wow, look at that face_, said Moloch. _Does not it seem very chastened, right?_

_I would say she remains just as stubborn as before. We'll have to educate her a bit_, added another incubus malevolently.

- Why? - Lara said, out loud and inexpressive.

Moloch smiled again.

This is hell, my dear, what did you expect? You've come to receive the highest of all the lessons. Here you will purify your sins bitterly. And we're your disciplinary staff. Also, I must admit I'll love to make you bite the dust, because that will be what will make suffer that Lux Veritatis the most, that son of a bitch, more than ripping his eyes off.

- Cowards. - Lara muttered. - Come here and get me, then!

There was a hideous, multiple laughter which pierced her ears.

_We sent a Golem to warn you_, revealed one of the _incubi, a Golem made with the body of a dead man and the spirit of the human named Giacomo Sciarra, which easily lent himself to that. Then you beat him, my dear, but, can you beat all of us now?_

She clenched her teeth. If she was going to die, it wouldn't be without fighting. And if those nasty beings wanted to rape her, it won't be because she wouldn't have tried everything to avoid that. So when they approached her, she launched a tactic meant at the time: she lit a flare with her good arm and threw it against the first incubus. Fortunately, that horrible being's oily skin burned immediately with the contact. The incubus howled and flapped its wings, spreading the fire to his companion. In the confusion, Lara took the opportunity to slip away, throwing a pair of flares over against those who tried to stop her. Soon, the _incubi_ were a mass of moving torches. She already believed to have escaped when a paw grabbed her ankle and pulled her.

The fall was painful. Her mouth crashed into the rocky ground and split her lip. She coughed blood and spat on the ground a couple of teeth, but she was about to get up when a powerful paw grabbed her head, lifted it into the air, then slammed it back into the ground. The shock was terrible. She noticed her nose's fragile bridge breaking with the impact, and then the world around her disappeared.

The last thing she noticed, before completely losing her consciousness, was something gripping her ankle and dragging her across the floor, like a dead lamb.

Lara's last thought was a desperate cry addressed to Kurtis.

(...)

_May the Light have mercy on her_, wrote Marcus. Then he picked up his book, and began the slow descent to the Mother's Throne.


	49. Chapter 48: Sacrifice

**Chapter 48: Sacrifice**

- Damn it!

Furious, Kurtis slammed his fist against the hard rock. He only managed to get his knuckles skinned. Then he turned, helpless and put his hands to his aching head.

Maddalena watched with horror the footprints left on the floor. Blood drops scattered here and there; Lara's guns, abandoned on the floor; a long knife, and worse; a mop of brown hair with bits of skin stuck. Kurtis took that lock of hair, which recognized by touching and smelling it.

- This is Moloch's work. - he sentenced – I must have killed him when I had the chance.

His voice was full of resentment. He turned back to the wall, where the tunnel ended, and struck it again.

- Enough! - shouted Maddalena - You're hurting yourself!

Blood ran through his arm, but he didn't care.

- This wall wasn't here before. - he muttered – They've put it there to avoid me to pass. So I can't reach her.

What make him feel desperate was that Lara was in obvious danger. He had heard her screaming, calling him with total clarity. She had been silenced and now he couldn't hear her, but he could perceive her nearby. Rarely he had feel more upset than at the time, but he struggled for controlling himself. He couldn't pierce the rock with his fist.

- We have to find another way. - he determined, and retreated to the tunnel's exit. There was the constant Giselle reaching, crawling, but he just looked at her. He sat on the floor, crossed his legs and breathed deeply.

The ginger girl knelt beside her.

- What are you doing? - she asked softly.

- Once, a long time ago, - he said, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible – I lost Lara. She was kidnapped by the Cabal's mercenaries and she was forcibly taken to Munich, where they wanted to force her to breed a new hybrid species with a Nephilim.

- Oh my God! - Maddalena mumbled.

- I found her by using this. I hope it won't fail me now. - he dropped his head on his chest - In theory, this should have improved ...

It had improved. And so much. The Light concentrated around him when just began to invoke the Don. He saw it as something material, dancing around, spinning ever faster, and suddenly he found himself out of his body, becoming another particle of Light. That process didn't hurt him, didn't make him feel heavy, nor exhausted, as he had felt previously. He invoked Lara's name and face of Lara and drifted. He crossed rock, fire and flesh, to get to her.

She was unconscious because of a brutal blow on the face, which had broken her nose and mouth. One of the _incubi _dragged her by a leg, without any consideration. Her clothes and skin were being torn and peel as a result of friction against the rocky ground. The other _incubi_ rushed through the tunnel, led by Moloch, who taught them to hurry with dry orders. The brutality of those beings, even though he already knew before in person, hit him. And the indignation off seeing they were doing that to someone who was not able to defend against them.

_She's doomed_.

The voice which said that, sweet and sad, disturbed him so much that what he was looking faded. The _incubi_ and their battered victim disappeared from his view, and the Light was redirected again until a tall, slender and delicate figure appeared in front of him. There was something familiar in her, even though he couldn't have seen her ever in life. A tall, white woman, with long blond hair and a delicate expression on her face.

_My benefactor._

She wore a long white dress. She smiled sweetly at him.

_Do you remember me? We met through time and space. You helped me to execute my revenge. With the death of the last Nephilim, my shame was repaired. I am Loanna Von Skopf_.

Yes, of course he had recognized her. He wanted to tell something but couldn't speak, since at that time he was just a spark of the huge assembly of Light. Loanna smiled with beatific peace and then argued sadly:

_I would like to help you, but I'm not allowed to intervene. Nobody will prevent me, however, to speak to you. I want to say that Lara is already doomed, and you should not feel guilty about it. She followed you willingly, or rather because it was willing to happen that way. There are very powerful hands that are pulling the strings of your destiny, and you are no longer master of your own actions. Powerful and evil hands, not human, and therefore are beyond your feelings. Every step you give, you do controlled, in fact, as has always been. You can't prevent Lara's death, and you'd better resign yourself to it, or you'll doom yourself too, my benefactor_.

Somewhere, he heard a faint moan. Lara was waking. There were a couple of violent blows, and he heard her screaming. Loanna approached. She was beautiful, free of sorrows and miseries that have afflicted her in life.

_Don't listen to that! You'll only get hurt. I'm not an evil spirit that seeks you to forget your target. You avenged me and now I will return the favor. Don't let what you feel about her stands between you and your target. You sacrificed your human sight to behold the Light as no mortal looked at it before, and this has given you a power you're still unable to appreciate. You are now as powerful as them. You can destroy them. But if you just abandon yourself to the pain and despair at the torture and death of your partner, everything will be in vain, because you will die also._

She was asking too much for him. Dying was easier than that. She heard his thought, and smiled again.

_Moloch still doesn't know what he did when he ripped your eyes off. You can crush him, and so with the hybrid Nephilim, if you want. They're no rival for you. Oh, they have no idea in what position are you now! And you know what to do. Do it, and forget Lara and your son... they're lost. Don't let their death to get you down, to destroy your strength. Instead, use that anger as a weapon against your enemies. Defeat them now and get over with this ancient war without end_.

And what if he was defeated? If he died too?

Loanna shook her beautiful head, shaking her blond hair. She spread his fingers and touched him gently, at some indeterminate point in his ethereal and luminous form.

_Don't fear death. Whatever it is, you'll meet with Lara._

(...)

A snap got her out of her unconsciousness. Lara opened her eyes and at first she couldn't see anything. But suddenly, a blurred, immense form took shape in front of her. Or rather, over him, because she was lying on her back on a hard and high surface, and what she saw was a huge figure that reached into the very distant ceiling of this room. Gradually the lights and shadows receded and she could focus what this meant. Her blood ran cold when she recognized it.

She had never seen that before. But Kurtis had had access to that vision long ago, after the ectoplasm's attack on that Syrian hotel. And now she recognized that for his description.

A huge throne, with a naked woman sitting on it. A stone statue whose majesty rivaled with that of the idols she had come to see during her explorations. The statue wore a silver mask attached, which reproduced the beautiful, expressionless face of a Greek goddess. The sculpture was to measure yards and meters, and weigh thousands of tons. However, about its manufacturing was a delicate, beautiful yet terrifying presence, which lacked only breathe and move.

- In fact, She only lacks that, and soon She will had both. - said a voice at her side.

She turned her face. At the foot of Lilith's huge statue (because now she was aware this was Lilith) was Bathsheba, still and clear. Holding in one hand a bowl in which an elongated blue flame was burning. In the other hand she held the Scepter. Lara could quickly grasp she had the three Periapt Shards in a belt, tight around the tattered remnants of her robe, and at her feet was the Periapt. She was completely motionless and almost seemed a statue.

The sharp pain of the broken arm took her out of her thoughts. Twisting to look across almost made her lose consciousness. Lara felt a dull pain in the face, her nose felt as blocked, she had to breathe through her mouth and every breath was painful.

Across the altar were Moloch and his _incubi_. They seemed to be waiting for something or someone, and the Prince seemed more than eager. Lara tried to move again, but then she discovered her hands and feet shackled, to what seemed ... a kind of altar.

- Damn it! - she shouted. She tried to sit up, but the painful whip of the broken bone laid her back – Not this way! Give me a weapon and I'll fight!

- You have no choice. - a sore and tired voice sentenced.

Lara turned her head sharply. A few steps from the altar, looking towards the Goddess, the Wise was sitting on a rock. He had an unhappy expression on his face, and held the _O Onírikos Daimonion_ open on his knees, while the hand holding the writing instrument. At each side he had a manticore, and each had his poisonous appendix pointing directly to his neck.

- Marcus! - Lara shouted.

- If the old man tries to make the slightest movement, he's dead. - sentenced Moloch, satisfied - Although, what could make a bag of bones like him?

Among the incubi's cruel laughter, their leader approached to Lara, grabbed her by the hair and lifted her head to bring her ear to his fangs.

- It has come to write your ending, darling. - he hissed - We'll try to inspire him something that fits well tragic and impressive, don't you think?

Marcus turned his head, trying to hide his grief.

Lara briefly noted his executioner. Then she licked her bloody lips, and spat him in the very face. He released her head sharply, which struck the stone.

- I'm tired of this miserable's arrogance. - the incubus muttered, turning towards Bathsheba - And I'll start to punish her now, whenever you see it good or not.

The Nephilim looked up, sorry. She found Lara's censorious eyes, who even then didn't asked for help. Bathsheba said:

- I didn't want to make you suffer, but the killing hand is him, and wants to do it his way.

- Go to hell!

_We're on it_, she whispered quietly in response.

(…)

When he regained consciousness, he was in Maddalena's arms, but she wasn't looking at him, but frowning, scrutinizing an unspecified location in front of them. Noticing his moves, she muttered under her breath:

- That demon of Giselle... has tried to approach when you were helpless, but I've driven her away.

- Let's move. - he said, getting up.

Still in front of him was the ethereal, luminous figure of Loanna, waiting patient with her delicate hands clasped to her chest. Both the white dress she wore and the long blond hair were sparkling. Kurtis thought she looked like one of those elven maidens who appeared in northern tales.

_She can't see me_, said the lady, pointing Maddalena with her eyes, _but it's better this way._ _She already has enough on her own. Follow me, I'll guide you to the Mother's Throne. She's ready to wake up._

- What do we do with her? - Maddalena said, referring to Giselle, whose _rac-rac_ when dragging her body across the floor was heard next there.

- I guess we'll be forced to let her be.

_Wise answer_, Loanna smiled, as she turned and walked into the valley, _even now, Giselle has a role to fulfill, for better or for worse._

(...)

At first, Lara struggled, despite the exhaustion and pain. But she was human and her forces reached a limit, and beyond that limit, she was helpless. She experienced the bitterness of defeat and humiliation as never in all her life. She wondered how it was possible that those beings hate a human being to such point. She was surprised to find out that, after all, those demons were no different from humans. They assaulted, tortured and raped just like it would do the cruelest of human beings. On the one hand, that disappointed her. On the other hand, that comforted her. They couldn't make to her more than that. And while the pain of humiliation was even stronger than the physical one, she knew she could fight as she would fight if her executioner were human: with dignity, resignation and as indifference as she could have in such terrible situation. Being no more than a helpless lump, like a straw man. Don't giving them the pleasure of hearing her complains. Swallowing tears, biting the own tongue. No more pride, dignity only.

A claw sunk in her jaw and violently lifted her head, forcing her to look at that nightmare face. Thousands of lights danced before her eyes, as a result of stunning, but she distinguished perfectly the features of her tormentor:

_Do you see, smug human? You're no different from any other scum. You'd thought you were special, right? You'd thought you were strong. But now you're like everyone else. You're now the most miserable. What I say! You envy the most miserable now, right? For that miserable's going to live, and you won't._

Moloch released her and she hit her head against the stone. The blow stunned her completely. Nevertheless, she still heard that voice, like a buzzing, swarming painfully in her ears, and now saying...

_...or anything that you have appropriate during all these years. Do you think you can go anywhere and say: this is mine? Do you think you can take what you please just because you have found it? - he laughed - No, Lara Croft. Maybe you've done that so far... but this time it's over. This time I will be the one to take you... my Amazonian._

Why was that voice, those words, so familiar to her? She had already heard that before. Yes, that had been told her a long time ago...

The nebula over her eyes cleared and saw a tilted, harmonious face, with regular features, a pale, blond man with a cold blue eyes. Lara knew him, of course.

- Karel. - she gasped through her swollen lips.

He smiled cruelly.

_I came to see your final. I offered you the world, but then you rejected and challenged me. You could have had it all, and now look what you've become. That's what your pride has done to you, Amazonian, and challenging our High Race._

She closed her eyes.

- You're not real. Just a trick of Moloch. You're dead.

_And you'll be so, my dear, very soon..._

She shook her head. She couldn't imagine a single fiber of her body which weren't hurting, that wasn't driving her crazy. The feeling of those claws manipulating, profaning, destroying her body, was superior to any pain in the world.

- Enough. I give up. Kill me at once.

_Do you give up?_

- This... fucking pride's useless. Kill me. I want to end with this.

_Your lover's coming. Don't you want to see him? To relieve your pain before dying?_

She squeezed her eyes tightly and turned her face.

- You won't use me as a bait to catch him. That's it. You win. Kill me now! Kill me!

Her voice rose to a scream, even though she hardly had the strength to scream. She contorted in a horrible way and shouted again:

- Kill me!

_Lara!_

She opened her eyes. Above her bowed two figures. What was it, another trick? Another mental torture, added to the physical one?

_Lara... do you know us? Do you know who we are?_

She recognized their faces, but she seemed to have known them centuries ago. One was an old man dressed in white, with pint glasses and intellectual looking. The other was a black woman, dressed in colors and adorned with beads.

_Werner_, she murmured, smiling, and then said at the other, _Putai, is this an illusion?_

_Girl, don't give up now_, Von Croy said, grabbing her arm. His touch was surprisingly real, even though she knew he was dead, _don't give up, you're close to victory!_

_What victory?_, she said, and laughed bitterly, _you were right, Werner... this pride..._

_I gave this pride to you, girl. I'm sorry._

_My sister_, Putai exclaimed, bending over her, _you must resist a moment longer. You still are the Amazonian and you must fulfill your mission, as you did once._

- I can't... you too were right, Putai... I can't resist this... I'd rather die...

_Lara, call them now!_ shouted the Bedouin woman, _Only you can do call them!_

_Hold on, daughter, that's almost finished_, Werner said, and let her go.

- Calling them...

The figures of her beloved ones vanished. Lara went back to reality and pain. Through the haze that dulled her mind, she clearly heard Bathsheba saying:

- It's time.

(…)

Marcus watched, mesmerized, how the valuable Sybilla's book slipped from his knees and crashed to the ground. It didn't matter anymore. The horror of what he had seen exceeded everything else. One after another, or several at once, those abominations had tortured and raped Lara several times, as many as they wanted. He had lost the account. Perhaps she could have withstood the torture, but not raping. It was shameful, absolutely shameful. The height of sadism and abomination. And Bathseba had watched that while doing _nothing_ to stop it.

And now she, wielding a Periapt Shard in hand, without shaking her arm, had opened Lara's belly while still alive, while still screaming she wanted to be killed, and had taken...

He stood up, trembling, ignoring those manticores that bristled their sting to see him move. He held out his arm and shouted:

- I curse you, Bathsheba!

She turned slowly. She was totally bloody. Her arms, chest and belly soaked with blood. Lara's blood. In her hands she held a small, gelatinous bundle, which filled Marcus with horror and revulsion.

- Damn you! - he screamed again, out of himself - Damn the father who gave you life and the mother who gave birth to you! Damn your indifference and your coolness! Damn your cruelty and your black heart! Damn you, Nephilim! May the Light give you long and bitter doom, unholy, for the atrocity you have committed!

The Nephilim weren't listening at him. Slowly, gently, she rose, carrying her macabre trophy. She rose to face the immense Lilith and presented her offering:

- Here you have, Holy Mother, as you asked me...

Marcus moved up the bloodied stumbled altar. Neither the incubi nor the manticores, nor the rest of demons who suddenly began to gather, waiting in the room, tried to prevent it, as they were interested in watching the ritual.

The old man slipped on the steps, splattered in blood, and arrived awkwardly on the edge of the altar. He looked at Lara's broken, butchered body, and tore his hair in despair, not realizing that he was smearing in her blood:

- Oh, my dear, I've failed to you... forgive me, forgive me...!

- Mar... cus...

Hearing the hesitant, bloodless words, he looked at her and discovered horrified _she was still alive_. The bloody knife was still at the foot of the altar, where Bathsheba had left it. But he was unable to finish her. No, he couldn't...

- Mar... cus...

He leaned over her. She was close to death. Her skin was gray and her lips ashen. And he couldn't even alleviate her suffering.

Lara moved again her lips.

- Tell me, child! - Marcus said, and bent the ear to stick it to her mouth.

The voice came out to him, weak and breathy.

- T... P... t...

- How? I can't understand you, child!

_Holy Light, have mercy on her, and take her away!_

- The ... Per... pt...

- Child, I need you to speak more clearly, try it!

Lara's face turned towards Lilith's statue, and again uttered one syllable which sounded incongruous. Suddenly, Marcus noticed what she was watching.

- The Periapt! You want the Periapt!

He looked around nervously. Each time there were more demons, of different species, as he had never seen, crowding the room. But no one was watching at him. Everyone looked to the Mother, awaiting Her awakening.

He ran to the stairs and took the Periapt, which was deposited on one of them. Then he returned towards Lara, but she had no strength to lift an arm. So he approached it to her lips, because suddenly, as an inspiration, he came just to understand what was Lara Croft's last will.

She moved her lips softly, staining the engraving area with blood. But twice she stopped, breathless. Her head fell back and her eyes rolled upward, staying blank.

- I'll help you, daughter, but it's you who had to say it!

He slid his wiry hand under the woman's neck and lifted her head. The last words came in a faint whisper...

- An... ge... Is...

On the heights, Bathsheba had opened a gap, by way of mouth, in the mask of the Goddess, using another Periapt Shard, which cut everything. After that, she introduced the bloody offering in the statue's mouth.

- He... ar... my... voice...

There was complete silence. Bathsheba folded her hands and exclaimed:

- Wake up, Mother! Come back to us!

Lara took a breath for the last time.

- ... the... Amazonian... is calling you!

A tremendous tremor began to shake the Voragine's foundations. At first it was a faint buzz, which grew monstrously at an impact speed. Large chunks of stone fell from the ceiling. Demons shrank in terror. Only Bathsheba remained impassive.

The mask was broken. Slowly, and endless bunch of cracks spread over the surface of the statue, leaving traces of glow. The whole statue suffered and seemed to vibrate, move, because the asleep creature that had contained for centuries in lethargy, dreaming of the day of vengeance, had awakened.

Lilith came back.

- Blessed Light... daughter, she has awakened her!

But Lara couldn't hear him. He looked at her and uttered a cry. Trembling, he gently rested her head on the hard stone and closed her eyes.

She had died.

(…)

**To my dear readers;**

**I know that right now you most likely hate me for what I've written. At the end of the day, what fanfic author, in his/her right mind, kills his/her heroine? Anyway, I decided to do so and some people at the time liked it and some people didn't like it, and I can't blame them for that.**

**I can only say the fanfic is _not _over. I ask you, despite the disgust, to read the fanfic to the end. I think the end will surprise you, although it seems what's written is already irreversible.**

**Kisses and thanks for reading.**


	50. Chapter 49: Light Beings

**Chapter 49: Light Beings**

- Lara's dead.

He said, his voice fading, his lips barely moving. He was leaning against the rock wall because he couldn't go on. In front of him, Maddalena wrung her hands and said:

- God! It won't be true.

Kurtis slowly raised his head. His lips were blue. Along with the live and dry blood who soaked his face he looked totally sinister.

- I wish it weren't true. - he muttered. - I knew they would do that to her. Nothing less than _that_.

_That's the way, Warrior_, Loanna sadly said, whom only he could see, _we, the_ _women who are strong, we're humiliated that way. Demons, humans, the irony is that, ultimately, everyone is equal. Don't give up now. You made a promise._

- I've failed to her. - he murmured again, with forced blankness - I want you to know what they've have done to her, Giulia, so you'll know what to expect. This is the Bitter Path.

- No! - said Maddalena - You'll see how everything will be okay. We'll overcome.

- If only they had tortured her, no doubt she would have resisted. She was very strong. But she wasn't prepared for the humiliation. They raped her as if she was a toy doll. Then she butchered her and tore...

- Hush, for God's sake! - the ginger girl lunged and covered his mouth - Holy Virgin! You're burning! No doubt you're delusional. You're hurt, tired, feverish... it's normal, it's normal. You must rest. You'll see how everything works out, you'll stop seeing ghosts, having bad visions, false visions...

_There's no time for that_, said Loanna, _for nothing is more cruel than reality_.

Kurtis had no strength. He collapsed on the floor, shaking. He no longer had eyes to weep, but was crying anyway with hoarse sobs born from the depths of his being. He put his hands on his destroyed face.

- I've failed to her. - he obsessively repeated, while the blood was still slipping through the cracks of his fingers - I just tried to protect her, and I failed.

- That's not true!

_You'll fail only if you stay inactive. Arise!_, Loanna's voice was now severe, _Don't shame your partner! She's died to give you a chance. Lilith has risen, fueled by the blood of your son! But even now you're not alone. Arise, or you'll fail!_

- Courage. - Maddalena gripped his hands – We can't stay here. Let's go on. Maybe you're wrong and she's not...

A bright light blinded her. She screamed in pain and covered her eyes. Even Kurtis, who could see thanks to the Don, caught that iridescent and powerful clarity. Three bright figures began to take shape before them. Loanna was the first to react. She advanced a few steps and bowed in respect.

The light was fading until three figures, shaping tall and slender, three beings made of light, lined up next to each other. Their bodies were male and they were naked, but had enormous wings, too bright and almost transparent, which they sprang back up above their head and spread widely. At first no one could capture their faces, for they were pure light spots.

_Hail to you, oh Venerable, oh Ancients_, Loanna waved her hands to her lips and then to the front.

Finally they could see them clearly. Maddalena dropped to her knees, trembling, speechless, and dug her fingers into Kurtis' shoulder.

- Oh my God, this can't be true.

There were three angels: tall, gorgeous and breathtaking angels. Their bodies, though naked, had no trace of hair, bend or imperfection, for they were like marble statues, like ancient Greek gods and heroes of canonical perfection. And yet, they were different despite how similar seemed, as the angel of the center was stocky and gave a powerful impression; the one on the right was agile and vital, while the left one had milder forms, as a teenager. The beauty of their faces was overwhelming. Such perfect beauty had never be seen before, since even Bathsheba's features weren't comparable with the brightness of their faces and the strength of their looks.

With her heart pounding, Maddalena noticed the angel of the center was holding a silver sword; the one on the right, something like a stick used by the pilgrims, but also silverish; and the left one was just holding languidly a pen and an unrolled scroll that almost touched the ground. This young-looking angel was the one who spoke, using a multiple and indefinite voice, which was both young and old, male and female, and it sounded like a thousand voices in unison:

_Peace be with you, even in times like this. Also to you, Giulia the Sicilian, despite the demons that torment you. You received a Christian education and so you can recognize us. Indeed, we are the Three Archangels, servants of the Father. I am Gabriel, the Messenger, and these are Michael, the Warrior; and Raphael, the Guide. We came because she called us when dying._

_...when dying..._ repeated an echo of his many voices.

Kurtis slowly raised his face at hearing that.

- Did Lara call you?

_Indeed_, Gabriel said softly, looking sadly at the man, _we came to help you, Son of Light, because darkness is too strong now and your energy is flagging._

_...flagging..._

Michael stepped forward. Despite his beauty, his stern and frowning look made him terrible. He had long blond hair and luminous eyes as spring water. He raised his silver sword and touched Kurtis' chin with the blade's tip, forcing him to raise his blind head. In his attitude there was some fascinating, a kind of disdain aggressiveness. Maddalena embraced Kurtis' shoulders, protective, scared at the angel's attitude.

_He's not but a poor mortal_, his voices, unlike Gabriel's one, was an amalgam of deep and powerful voices, _he had no faith in his heart and had to sacrifice his sight to really see. Such an unfortunate._

_...unfortunate..._

Then Raphael intervened. His voices were more didactic and prosaic:

_Body's eyes are worthless, for we only truly see with the heart. Tell us, young mortal, what do you want from us?_

_...us..._

Kurtis mumbled:

- I don't want anything. It was Lara who called you. Do whatever she wanted.

Michael withdrew the sword, to Maddalena's relief. Gabriel smiled.

_But she sent us to you. She said you would answer, she said it with her last breath. Now you're the only one left._

_...only one left..._

At that time, the fascinated Maddalena reached out to the young angel and tried to touch his leg, but she didn't feel anything, neither hot nor cold, nor any rubbing. Gabriel smiled again:

_Sorry, little Giulia, but we're not corporeal, so you can't touch us._

_...touch us..._

Kurtis said sourly:

- Lara's dead. Everything else no longer matters. You're angels. You'll know what to do.

Michael frowned.

_So you're the one who was to come, the mighty Warrior of the Light? Rather you're a coward. The Great Whore just woke up and you just mourn and shame your partner, who at least had the courage to fight until death._

_...death..._

Loanna stepped forward and placed her hand on Kurtis' shoulder, a contact he could feel himself but was not corporeal.

_Oh Venerable Saint Michael, have mercy on him. You're a divine being and don't know about neither human suffering, nor the ravages it makes in our weak hearts. I beg you to assist him, for the Amazonian asked you this, and you listened to her in the past, when she invoked your Oracle._

Raphael leaned over and peered into Kurtis' face. Then he shook his head and muttered:

_He brings death written on him!_

… _on him..._

Kurtis smiled bitterly.

- Well, those are good news.

_There's no time to waste_, ruled Miguel, standing, _I'll talk to Samael._

_...Samael..._

The echo reverberated multitudinous, dragging the dreaded name. Maddalena saw the young Gabriel quiver and nailing his frightened eyes in his companion.

_Brother, the Father hasn't given you permission for it._

…_for it..._

_I'll talk to him_, Michael's expression was firm, _don't worry, little one, for I beat him once, and so I can do it again_, and when saying this he gripped the hilt of his sword. _And if I fail, may the Father punish me._

_...punish me..._

No one seemed to be in the universe to punish that powerful and magnificent creature. Maddalena couldn't take her eyes off them, big tears running down her cheeks. Now a red aura was surrounding Michael, who raised his sword and spread his wings.

_Samael will listen to me._

…_listen to me..._

A glow surrounded him and he instantly vanished. Raphael came and told Kurtis:

_I, on myself, will guide you to where your partner died, where the Unholy Goddess is awakening. Be strong and take comfort for she's no longer suffering. She's at peace, for I, on myself, snatched her soul when ridding from her body, for the demons wanted to grab her and drag her into the blackness, and I've taken her to the Light. Rejoice and fight, because if you're brave, you'll see her again._

_...see her again..._

Maddalena went out of her fascination and dried her tears.

- Now what? - and fearing having being disrespectful, she added. - Oh Saints, oh Venerable, oh Ancients!

Gabriel smiled, as if being amused by those epithets.

_Now, forward, towards either end._

_...either end..._

Raphael stood, stretched the rod and the rocky wall opened before him, revealing a path in the rock, dimly lit by his celestial body. Maddalena helped Kurtis to get up.

Follow me, it's time. Gabriel...

_I know, brother. Come, Loanna Von Skopf, you've participated enough. Go back to your well-deserved rest. I'll be back soon._

_...soon..._, said his youthful echo, and vanished after a blue flame, taking the silent and rueful Loanna with him.

Slowly, both Kurtis and Maddalena made their way, following Raphael's luminous aura, towards the restless darkness.

(…)

Michael landed softly on the ground, folded his wings and scanned the darkness around him. Then he shouted:

_Samael!_

_...Samael..._

There was no need to repeat it beyond the echo of his voices. A flash of light materialized before him, grew, grew and led to another being of light.

What an honor. Look who deigns to visit me after all this time.

_...this time..._

The warrior archangel managed to hide his surprise. The being standing in front of him was just as he remembered, he had changed nothing over millennia. He was the same he had defeated and condemned to eternal darkness.

_What's up, brother?_ Samael said sarcastically, _Did you expect, perhaps, to see me with horns and tail, as the mortals think I am?_

_.. I am..._

The archangel Samael, the same one called Satan by mortals, differed very little from the beautiful and splendid Michael. He was so beautiful, tall and strong like him, except his eyes, and his thick hair, who were jet black.

_If you want, I can take that shape. Christian churches are full of images of yourself kicking me, a terrible monster. Would you feel more comfortable if no one's competing with your power, isn't it, brother? _

_... brother..._

_Enough. I didn't come to see your tricks. The one you call your girlfriend just woke up. _

_...woke up..._

_In my presence, you'll head towards my wife Lilith with due respect._

_...respect..._

Michael's harmonious factions contracted. He moved the sword so fast that a millisecond after the blade brushed Samael's mouth.

_Be careful. I stuck this sword in your mouth once. Only the Father deserves respect._

_...respect..._

The other one smiled calmly.

_Ah, Mi-ka-el_, hissed pronouncing his name in Hebrew, _How little angels change. Millions of millennia had passed and we'll continue as before. While wasting time on these bluster, my wife is waking up and She's really angry. She's determined to avenge our fall into darkness._

_...darkness..._

_You must stop her, Samael._

_...Samael..._

_How, is that an order?_

_...order..._

_If you don't obey, she'll be destroyed. And you and your demons, too._

_...too..._

_Nothing can destroy us, except the Father, as you know. And even He didn't want to destroy us in the past. He imagined a worse punishment, the long agony in this endless blackness. Seeing how my brothers angels were transformed into hideous monsters, slowly, while my wife and I remained incorruptible. Yes, Moloch was once even more lovely than the gentle Gabriel, and look at him now. He has become so cruel as the most despicable of mortals. We're the Father's creation, and this is what He has done to us. _

_...to us..._

The warrior archangel's fist tightened on the hilt of his sword while clenching his snowy teeth:

_If you keep blaspheming, I'll rip your tongue, Samael._

_...Samael..._

_You're a good fighter and a faithful servant, Michael, but I'm smarter than you. You need me, both me and my tongue. _

_...tongue... _

_Will you stop Lilith?_

_...Lilith..._

_Under one condition_

_...condition..._

_How dare you put conditions?_

_...conditions ..._

_For I am the bold, and you're the obedient. Send this message to Father I'll tell you, and if He accepts my conditions, I'll stop Her. Otherwise, I'll let Her to unleash Her righteous wrath._

_...wrath..._

_Are you trying to negotiate with the Father? Who do you think you are? _

_...you are..._

Samael smiled.

_The devil himself._

_... himself..._

(…)

_My daughter..._

Her voice was like all the voices of all women everywhere in unison. Great, terrible, very worthy. Bathsheba knelt on the floor, trembling. The light that came from the broken statue blinded her. She closed her eyes, shuddering.

_You've done well, my daughter. Welcome to my kingdom. Now tell me what you want and I will grant it._

It was clear. She had decided it so long ago, but at that moment her voice failed. She trembled, forced again her voice and mumbled:

- Destroy, Blessed Mother, the Periapt and the Shards, so that nothing can hurt me or harm me anymore in this world.

_So be it._


End file.
